


a thousand years

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Romance, Christmas Miracles, F/M, Falling In Love, Guardian Angels, Romance, Second Chance Romance, Second Chances, basically just jonerys version of 'the family man'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: What if...you made different choices?What if...you said yes instead of no?What if...you got a second chance?Daenerys Targaryen has it all.  Wealth, power, a successful law practice, and any man she wants at the snap of a finger.  One Christmas Eve, she saves the life of a young woman, who turns around and asks her the all important question:  "Do you have everything you need?"  Of course she does.The following morning, when she wakes, she is not in her life.  She's married to the man she let go years before, with a family, and a life she doesn't understand.  She soon learns that what you want and what you need are two very different things, and that you can in fact, maybe take a second chance on love.**Bonus Epilogue posted 12/28/2020**
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 433
Kudos: 953





	1. "do you have what you need?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany has it all; wealth and power and everything she’s wanted...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my favorite people I have met in this fandom-- you know who you are. The ones who have been kind and friendly and who have loved my work through the first fic to whatever will end up being my last. You guys are the best.
> 
> This is a remix of 'The Family Man' which is a very underrated Christmas movie with Nicholas Cage and Tea Leoni and is one of my all-time favorites. I wanted to do this last year and outlined it all, but ended up not having time during the holidays and before I knew it was January. So this year I started early! I had no idea it would end up as long as it did. It is almost entirely written and I'll space it out throughout the month. 
> 
> Enjoy!

__

* * *

**_Christmas Eve_ **  
**_2010AC_ **  
**_White Harbor_ **

"I don't know if this is a good idea."

Daenerys tossed one of her long silver braids over her shoulder, straightening from her crouched position on the curb, where she'd been double-checking her boarding pass and ID in her bag. She stepped off the curb to stand behind the Jeep, where her boyfriend of the last four years stood, nervously biting his bottom lip. He gazed up at the exterior of the White Harbor International Airport, the harsh fluorescent lighting from the interior of the large glass and chrome departures terminal blinding against the harsh black of the Northern winter night.

All around them people said goodbye, hugging and kissing, taxis and limo services and family cars playing a calculated dance of merging and exiting from the curb, dodging luggage trolleys, suitcases, the occasional random jaywalker. It was lightly snowing, fat white flakes errantly landing on the warm pavement or on top of her head. She brushed one of these flakes aside, moving towards Jon. "Don't worry," she assured him, reaching her arms to wrap around his neck, smiling warmly. He always worried. "It's just six-months."

He cocked his head, voice soft. His Northern burr warmed her to her toes, which she curled tight in her shearling lined boots, dressed comfortably for her long, nighttime international flight to Braavos. He pushed one of the scattered braids in her hair back behind her ear, flicking one of the silver hoops in her right ear— part of a set he got her for Christmas that year—lightly. He forced a smile. It was strained, not meeting his gray eyes, and he hesitated again. "It's just so far away," he said.

"It's only a seven-hour flight," she joked. And then another ten hours to Meereen, where she would be participating in her six-month internship at a prestigious law firm. She leaned in, lightly kissing him. "We'll text every day and Skype and you'll come visit me in a few months when you're done with the semester."

It was something they struggled over, the long distance, the time difference, and length she'd be gone. They were finishing up their final year at Queen Alysanne's University. She'd already graduated, the internship coming at the exact right moment as her early acceptance to Oldtown Law, the most prestigious law firm in Westeros. Dany knew it was timed absolutely perfectly. Jon would be finishing up his final year, graduating top of his class with his degree in Political Science and History, and since he was also in ROTC, he would immediately commission into the Westerosi military after graduation. They had it all planned. She'd be in law school, he'd do his service, and then they would live in King's Landing for a short time before moving to somewhere outside Winterfell, maybe in a little cottage, or even go to Dragonstone.

She would be a human rights lawyer, maybe doing something with social services, and Jon would get a job as a teacher—he loved teaching. Dany knew it all would work out, that was why she was positive this was for the best. It was just part of the plan, after all.

Jon was always very worrisome, she attributed it to his less than stellar upbringing. She kissed him once more, softer this time, and let her lips linger over his, inhaling the scent of his peppermint gum, sandalwood shampoo, and the faintest scent of the cigarettes he snuck when she wasn't looking. She pushed her fingers through his dark curls, left loose around his face. "We will be fine Jon; our relationship is strong. We've been together four years and we'll be together forever."

He nuzzled her nose, smiling into her lips. "Aye, we have. I'm sorry, we've just never been apart this long."

They hadn't, she agreed, but they would be fine. "Maybe it's just the holidays," she said. It was Christmas Eve. A terrible time to be leaving someone you love, but she had to start in Meereen in two days. The Mereeneese did not celebrate Christmas, especially not the way the Northerners did. She touched her cold fingertip to his nose, quiet. "I love you Jon Snow." Her heart hurt, already missing him, but she reassured herself again it would be fine.

"I love you too Daenerys Targaryen," he murmured, lowering his mouth over hers again. They kissed, for as long as she could stand it, ignoring the car horns around them because Jon hadn't moved his Jeep in some time, or the annoyed groans of people walking by the PDA.

Dany kissed him as hard as she could, pouring all her love for him into the kiss. It would be the last one for some time. She broke away, long enough to take a breath before she kissed him once again, and again, several more times, until he nudged her away, laughing. "Go, before I throw you back in the car and never let you leave," Jon teased. He forced it; she could tell, the corners of his eyes creasing, concerned.

An anxious knot began to form in her stomach. It hadn't been there before. Not from the moment she got the word of the internship to the decision they made for her to go and him to stay to packing to the drive. She nodded and let go, squeezing his hands hard. "I'll see you in six months," she laughed. She let go of his hand, warm and strong around her cooler and smaller one.

She stepped backwards to the curb, lifted her tote bag over her shoulder and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, backing up from the edge as Jon remained behind his Jeep. "I love you!' she called, blowing him kisses, grinning.

He waved, replying back that he loved her too—she could see his lips moving, but a large family bustled by her, kids shouting and wheely suitcases squeaking and scratching on the pavement. She walked sideways, stumbling and awkward to the door, waving and blowing kisses, her heart swelling in her chest as he waved back. Except that worried expression remained on his face, pained, like this was the last time he was seeing her in person.

_We will be fine_ , she assured herself again, repeating the mantra all evening long, even as Jon disappeared from view, forced to get back into his car and drive away. She texted him through the wait, through a brief delay, and when she settled into her window seat, seatbelt tight on her lap, and the flight attendant warning everyone to turn off their phones, she sent him one last text.

_Merry Christmas Jon, I love you, for a thousand years and more._

"Phone off ma'am."

Dany nodded quickly, glancing to see if he got it. She beamed, smiling down at the screen.

_We'd be pretty old. I love you too._

She turned off her phone, shoved it into the bag under the seat in front of her, and settled back into her seat, closing her eyes and mentally preparing for the journey ahead.

* * *

**_Ten Years Later_ **

**_Christmas Eve  
2020 AC  
King's Landing_ **

"This is terrible." Dany threw the heavy folder across the table towards one of her quaking first year associates, glaring angrily at him. He was atrocious, this Trystane Martell, only hired because of his connections to the Martell family. They were big clients. She despised nepotism, but sadly it was often necessary in her line of work. She arched a slim dark eyebrow, coolly reprimanding him. "I want it completely rewritten and do not bother citing Westeros v. Lannister Incorporated, they paid off the judges in that ruling and while it might be law, it is never cited as precedent, something a first-year associate should know, or did you sleep through all your crim law classes?"

She did not even wait for him to eke out a response, shooting her sharp violet gaze to one of her partners, Daario Naharis, who was lazily leaning back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the glass conference table. "And you," she began.

He smiled, long and slow. "Yes, Your Grace?"

She sneered; he'd been a thorn in her side for some time, but there was no denying he was a fantastic litigator and she needed him on her team for this case. They had a major client in socialite Cersei Lannister, were representing her in her extremely litigious and increasingly nasty divorce case from politician and industry tycoon Robert Baratheon. It was a dream case for her, one she was grateful to have, and would certainly skyrocket her fame among the King's Landing elite.

Plus it would add quite a few zeros—seven of them to be precise—into her bank account by the time they were done litigating it and there was finally a judgment. There would be no settlement. Daenerys Targaryen never settled. She conquered.

She studied Daario; it had been some time since her bed had been warm, perhaps she'd take him home with her that evening, if only for something to scratch the itch. He seemed to know it too, smirking, his dark beard trimmed but with a pretentious little twirl in it and on the ends of his moustache. if she was not mistaken, it looked like he'd run blue dye through it again. _Ugh, maybe not._ She ran her tongue over her sharp white teeth. "Did you get the motions filed by the Baratheon counsel this morning, seeking to acquire the shares of the Lannister gold mines? We need to go over them tomorrow and file a response by the end of the week."

Her partner, Margaery Tyrell, pushed away from where she had been leaning against the door frame, a smirk twisting on her bright red lips. Unlike everyone else, in designer suits, tugged out ties, and rumpled dress shirts, she was wearing a velvet green gown poured over her lithe body like ink. Her chestnut curls were swept to the side with a jeweled green clip. "Daenerys, tomorrow? Tomorrow is Christmas Day."

_Really?_ That didn't mean anything to her. Dany straightened up from her lean against the table, tugging the bottom of her crisp black jacket down over her hips. She was not rumpled like everyone else. Not one silver strand of hair had come out from her complicated braided twist, and she pursed her lips, annoyed at Margaery's interruption. This was not her case. Margaery was a name partner, but she stuck more to the management side of the business while Daenerys actually went to court and made the money.

She lifted a shoulder carelessly. "So we meet tomorrow." She shot another warning look, threatening fire and blood at the team assembled around her. They were all weak, if they did not see how important this was. How _necessary._ It was the biggest case the firm had acquired, it would launch their careers, and guarantee them vacation homes and better cars. The fact they did not seem as gleeful about that as her, they clearly did not have their priorities right. She bit out her warning, challenging them. "Is that a problem?"

A few shifted in their seats. One of the senior partners, Yara Greyjoy, who she suspected had never celebrated a single holiday in her life, looked up, voice firm. "No boss, not a problem at all." She shot her own warning looks to some of her associates, including Tyene and Nymeria Sand, who both nodded in agreement, murmuring their acceptance of the meeting tomorrow.

"Good," Dany chirped. She tapped a gleaming red manicured nail on one of the heavy folders. "Because this case is everything. There is a multi-billion dragon judgment in our favor ladies and gentlemen, and Daario." She waved her hand at him as he chuckled, being singled out. She glanced at her slim Rolex, noting it was close to midnight. She supposed they could go home. She waved her hand again, dismissing everyone. "Good evening, see you here tomorrow, eight a.m. _sharp._ "

"Make it ten," Margaery cut in.

She ran her tongue over her teeth again, fire bubbling inside her at Margaery's overriding order. It made her look weak to them. She tightened her smile at her partner. "Nine."

"Fine, nine then, have a Merry Christmas everyone."

Dany rolled her eyes. It was just a holiday. It meant nothing. She allowed one of the first-year associates to reassemble the documents and lock them away for the evening, per protocol, walking briskly out of the office and straight by Margaery without a word or look in her direction. Her six-inch stilettos cut into the plush black carpeting in the glass-enclosed, twenty-first floor offices of Targaryen & Tyrell, Esq.

She marched into her office—the largest—in the corner of their floor and around the side of her massive ebony dragonglass desk. It was her first big purchase when she started the firm. her rise was meteoric— so said the King's Landing Chronicle in their two-page spread on her and Margaery last year—owning her own multi-million dragon law firm at the tender age of thirty-three. She just attributed it to decent investing and picking her options carefully.

Add in Margaery with her family money and connections, and Targaryen & Tyrell was in the black within months of their front door opening, in a far cheaper section of King's Landing. Dany stood momentarily at the edge of the desk, looking out at the darkness, the bright lights from the congested downtown area of King's Landing drowning any stars who dared to shine. It was chilly for King's Landing and if she wasn't mistaken, even appeared to be snowing. That was odd, she thought briefly, but pushed it aside as just a weather fluke.

She moved away from the window, from watching a plane taking off in the distance from the airport or the gleaming facade of the Sept of Baelor, lit up in red and green, she presumed for the holidays. On the second hill she could see out of the corner of her eye the ruins of the Dragonpit, floodlights shining up and throwing the ruins in relief against the black backdrop. On the third hill, closer to her and the business district, stood the Red Keep, also lit up and various light displays flashing around it.

It was unnecessary. People had too much time on their hands. All she could think of was the amount of family arguments there'd be. The likelihood of plenty of divorce filings to come. They'd be full up for consultations after the New Year celebrations. She turned away completely and faced Margaery now, her partner standing with arms crossed, sympathetic smile still on her face. "What?" she demanded, barking. She didn't have time for this.

"Go home Daenerys," Margaery cooed.

_Home._ Her home was a penthouse several blocks away with a killer view of the Blackwater Bay and the Dragonpit. She didn't know if she had any food, she'd have to stop and pick up something. She saw Daario hovering outside of her office, likely trying to see if she needed _company_ for the evening. She narrowed her gaze. Maybe she did. Just for the night.

She twitched her lips. "I might as well just spend the night here. There's work to do."

Margaery cocked her head, walking over and placing her hands on the back of one of the black leather chairs in front of the desk. She sighed hard, her gown straining to contain her rather ample breasts. She shook her head gently, side to side and Dany scowled. She despised the pity shining back from Marg's green eyes. "Dany, it's Christmas Eve. You're working tomorrow and making everyone else come in. Just go home. Hug your cat."

Drogon was the only living creature constant in her life. She had to get him cat food, she remembered suddenly . Guess she'd be stopping at the store on the way home for sure now. "He doesn't like hugs," she murmured. He was an ornery creature. Hated anyone and everyone. The best gift she'd received on her wedding day, since he'd shown up at the ceremony and hadn't left. That should have been a sign. The marriage went tits up in six months. She walked away with the majority of Drogo's ranching empire, so that was something.

She didn't like thinking of the failed marriage. It made her think of other things. Work was all that mattered. Margaery sighed hard, looking askance to the dragonglass grandfather clock in the corner of the office, chiming eleven. "Well whatever, just go home."

"And where are you off to looking like that?" Dany wondered, grabbing her coat from the closet.

"I had a family Christmas Eve gala to attend, thought I would come back to see if you were still here, shock you were," Margaery chided. She waited while Dany put on her coat and picked up her briefcase and one of her luxury designer Sand bags. Margaery clicked her tongue, lusting at the bag. "I asked Robb to get me one for the holidays, I don't think he realized he couldn't just order it on Blackwater Prime...it's gorgeous!"

Dany smirked. "Handmade, one of only five in existence." Ellaria Sand had made it for her special. Or at least, designed it for her special. It cost twice as much as her penthouse down payment.

"Gods," she sighed.

Robb was Margaery's mysterious boyfriend who Dany had yet to meet. She didn't even know his last name. If she'd heard it, she didn't remember. Margaery went through men like water, she didn't anticipate Robb sticking around for much longer. Likely he was only her arm candy for the holidays and then she'd mov eon to someone else. No way this Robb whoever would be purchasing a Sand bag for her anyway.

They exited the office, Dany not bothering to turn off the lights. The cleaning crew still had to make their way through the building. She stopped at the outer office, where her assistant got off the phone, rather hurriedly and reached out to her. "Ms. Targaryen," Grey said, firm and crisp. He was the most efficient assistant she had ever had, she adored him, and if anyone thought of stealing him from her, Dany would kill first, ask questions later.

"Yes Grey, just send me the messages to my phone," she began, but he was already handing her the note.

Grey stood at attention, as he always did, former military man. She met him in Astapor at a conference and dragged him with her. He'd quit that very day from his previous employer when she offered him the chance to work with her. "A Mr. Snow called for her, he left his name and number, asked you to call him back."

Echoing beside her, Margaery was saying something about how her grandmother had a Sand bag and how that was just so damn unfair, and she should just buy one herself, but she was more into shoes and was trying to show her the one-of-a-kind pair she had on. Dany didn't hear a damn thing. She just kept hearing Grey's words over and over, a gong booming in her mind.

_Snow. Snow. Snow. Snow._

She choked, eyes expanding, stunned. "Jon Snow?"

"Yes, a Mr. Jon Snow." Grey consulted his notepad. He nodded, satisfied he had it right. He peered up, dark eyes narrowing. "Is there a problem? Should I call your security?"

Sometimes they had ex-wives, husbands, partners, all sorts who did not like the judgments and settlements they received call and harass the office, but no one knew her personal line. She wondered how he got it. She shook her head, feeling foolish for reacting like she was. "Um, did he say anything else?" she wondered.

Margaery and now Daario, who hadn't left yet, were curious. "Who is Jon Snow?" Daario demanded.

She looked down at the note in her hand, staring at Grey's impeccable script writing, telling her that Jon Snow wanted her to call him. She shook her head, whispering. "He's no one. Forget it." She crumpled the message, shoving it into her coat pocket and nodded at grey. "Have a good evening Grey."

"You as well Ms. Targaryen, Mr. Selmy is out front with the car."

Margaery cocked her head, eyes narrowing. "Jon Snow. I feel like I know that name. Did we represent his case?"

"Probably not."

"Who is Jon Snow?" Daario demanded again; frustration evident. He hurried at her side, trying to catch up with her long strides, which was saying something as she was much shorter than him, but walking faster to the elevator. He chuckled, hands in his pockets. "Someone whose arse I need to kick?"

"Ex-boyfriend, he's no one really." Dany nodded to Margaery, who turned towards her office at the other end of the floor. "Goodnight Marg."

"Merry Christmas Daenerys!"

_Whatever._ She got into the elevator and threw on her hand, stopping Daario from joining her. At first the idea of him was pleasant, would help her out, but now she didn't want a thing to do with him, her stomach knotting. "Go home Daario," she ordered. He scowled, pissed off. She punched the ground floor, muttering as the doors closed on him. "I want to be alone."

* * *

Her driver Barristan was her favorite and he'd already stopped and gotten her YiTish food from her favorite place. "You're a lifesaver," she said, entering the car and smelling the eggrolls and sesame chicken, her mouth instantly salivating. She hadn't realized how hungry she happened to be. She leaned back in the seat and fiddled with her phone, scanning emails and text messages.

There was one, from her brother Viserys, all it said was: _Where's my check?_

She deleted it, rolling her eyes. The monthly check from their family's trust would come on schedule, on the 25th of the month, and it was only the 24th. He had another few hours, she supposed, until it deposited into his account. Or a couple days at least, since it was a holiday. She barely registered anything as Barristan drove her to her apartment. There were few people on the street, given the late hour and the cold, rather dreary weather now falling across the capital.

They stopped in front of her building and she bid Barristan goodbye and happy holidays, although she had no idea if he celebrated. "Tomorrow at eight?" he confirmed.

"Tomorrow at eight," she repeated, nodding. She greeted her doorman and entered the building, walking by the reception desk. It was a concierge building. Housekeeping cleaned it, maintenance on standby at all hours. It was like living in a hotel, which she enjoyed. She was halfway to the elevator and remembered she had to get Drogon food. He couldn't eat eggrolls and sesame chicken. She cursed under her breath, not wanting to get upstairs and turn around to go back out again.

She swiveled on her stiletto, walking to the desk and set the food and her briefcase on the polished marble top. "I need to run out and pick up something down the street, I will be right back," she said to Jorah, the longtime manager of the building who she knew had a crush on her. She smiled, putting extra teeth into it. "Thank you so much Jorah."

"Of course Ms. Targaryen, are you sure I cannot get someone to go out for you?" he asked, instantly at her side.

"No, thank you I appreciate it. I could use the fresh air." She had a little headache starting to form. Maybe it was the weather, she figured, walking back out into the cold air. The snow had picked up and it turned the roads slick. Cars skidded a little at the intersection, the Crownslands residents not accustomed to driving in anything but sunlight. She smirked, remembering how she was sort of like that. Then she went to college in the North.

_Jon Snow._

She pushed her hand into her pocket and took out the crumpled paper, staring at the note. _What could he possibly want after ten years?_ The last time she'd spoken to him had been on the phone, when they broke up. She was in Meereen, enjoying her life there, and he was back in the North. They drifted apart, as you did, she guessed. She sighed and shoved the paper into her purse, walking towards the small bodega near her building.

Dany lifted her face up, letting some snowflakes land on her lashes, and she darted her tongue out, tasting them. They tasted sweet, like sugar. She giggled. And instantly felt foolish, her smile falling. That was stupid. Snowflakes were frozen water, they tasted like ice. That was it. She shook her head slightly, wondering what had gotten into her, perhaps simply her headache, and moved to cross the street, the light flashing 'WALK.'

Out of nowhere, she saw a flashing light, and heard a scream, startled to see a car blowing through a light a block away, barreling right towards her and a woman halfway across the street, headphones in and not paying attention. "Hey!" she screamed, but the woman didn't notice, her music clearly too loud. She ran at her, slipping on the icy pavement, the slush seeping into her heels, and knocked the woman over, just as the car went careening through the light and fishtailed around the corner, nothing but glowing red brake lights in its wake.

The asphalt scratched her exposed knees and calves, dirty snow melting on her hands and staining her couple thousand stag coat. She rolled to her side and pushed up, stumbling on one shoe. And her bag… “NO!” she howled, seeing her new, bespoke, Sand bag covered in muck. She reached for it, almost sobbing. “Oh no….”

“Oh my gods! You saved me!” Dany turned to the woman, who stood beside her, also dripping in wet snow and road water. She smiled weakly, trying not to focus on the bag but the grateful woman.

“Yes...you should be more careful,” she murmured.

The young woman had big gold hoop earrings and a septum ring, her eyes wide and dark, reminding Dany of chocolate, even standing in the yellowish streetlights. She had springy dark curls in an Afro, with a braid over the top of her hair like a headband. She gestured to the bag, apologetic. “I’m so sorry about your bag...but better than bag than you, right?”

She wasn’t so sure. She swallowed the pained lump over the destruction of her bag back instead of saying anything g else. “Well, yes. That is true.”

“I’m Missandei.”

It was a pretty name, even if she wasn’t planning on seeing this woman ever again. She shoved her foot back into the heel that had fallen off. “Daenerys,” she murmured. She flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Have a good evening. Missandei.”

The woman— Missandei— called out as Dany walked away, to the bodega. “It’s Christmas Eve, practically Christmas. Why are you out here by yourself?”

Dany turned around, startled. She gripped tighter on her bag. She didn’t feel threatened at all by this woman. Rather, she felt...seen. The large brown eyes fixed on her, intense and laser focused. The woman had a unique accent, one she could not quite place, but it was soft and comforting. “I have...everything I need so I’m…” she shrugged. “Getting cat food.”

“Getting cat food? And then you’re going back to your apartment and what?” Missandei chuckled, not waiting for a response. Dany didn’t plan on giving her one. “You’ll go to work tomorrow, right?”

Dany moved to walk away, firmly ending the conversation with this strange woman. “Have a good evening Missandei.”

“You know, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer you.” She would just feed Drogon an egg roll. He’d be fine. She wanted to get away from this woman who seemed to see straight into her and wouldn’t leave her, now following at her side. “Please leave me alone.”

“You’re out here alone and getting food for your cat. You saved my life when you didn’t need to, but you’re upset about your purse, tell me Daenerys…” Missandei stepped in front of her and smiled again, smiling long and slow, voice soft. “Do you think there’s anything missing in your life?”

Missing? Not that she had to answer it but… “No,” Dany answered automatically. She frowned at Missandei’s calculating gaze. “I...I have everything I need.” She didn’t need to be judged by a stranger. She had her practice, her penthouse, and never wanted for money again. She had Drogon.

“Are you sure?” Missandei reached to idly twirl at one of her earrings. She wore a series of pretty rings on her fingers. Dany saw one with a dragon it. She dropped her fingers and twisted one of the rings off and slipped it to another finger. It looked like a wolf on it. She smiled again. “Are you sure you have everything you need?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” Missandei walked around her and Dany followed her with her gaze, the young woman turning and walking backwards, chuckling. She switched to Valyrian, to Dany’s surprise. “You brought what is going to happen on yourself, just so you know.”

Cold prickled down Dany’s spine, fear creeping into her at that statement. It sounded like a threat. “Excuse me?” she called, wide eyed. “Missandei! What does that mean!?”

Missandei laughed and spun in a circle. Dany closed her eyes hard and opened them, to find that the woman had disappeared. Vanished, right into thin air. She shifted in place several times, before adrenaline hit and she took off running. She ran straight back to her penthouse, ignored Jorah and grabbed her things, and begged the elevator to move faster.

The door opened into her apartment, Drogon yowling and popping out of the kitchen. She bypassed him for the wet bar and took a huge swig of whiskey. She didn’t usually drink it, but something compelled her tonight. “I must have hit my head,” she told her cat. She set the bottle down and went into the kitchen.

She forgot dinner and fed Drogon the egg rolls. He didn’t care. After scrubbing her face, she changed into an Oldtown University tee and pair of silk shorts, climbing eagerly into her massive bed and between her silk sheets.

Alarm set, eye mask on, and Dany hit her head to the pillow, Drogon curling beside her. She drifted off, forgetting the strange encounter with the strange woman Missandei, the bells of The Sept of Baelor chiming through the night, calling in Christmas.

* * *

“Wake up it’s Christmas!”

Dany’s eyes sprang open, her body locked down and limbs numb. It was a peculiar sensation. A state of paralysis, her eyes darting back and forth and her mind racing, processing. Someone was screaming— a child? Why was there a child screaming about Christmas? How did they get into her apartment!?

Or it was a vivid dream. She’d heard of those things happening. Certain medications causing your brain to react like everything in your subconscious was real. Except she didn’t think you actually felt it happening. She shot her eyes to the right, at a young girl running by the side of the bed, holding up a….doll? No, not a doll, a screaming baby she was about to drop.

A dog bounced in now and a loud hiss screeched beside her. Dragon! Except Drogon was not on the dresser where he usually went but atop a large wooden armoire crammed in the corner of what she now saw was a small room, with slanted wooden ceilings, exposed beams, a tiny fireplace and dormer windows. And a window seat she thought idly. She loved window seats.

“Five more minutes.”

This was not the childish shouts of Christmas, coming from the young girl now bouncing in the bed and the baby screaming “Muna!” Reaching for...HER!

“What…?” Dany did not even get the question out, as the paralysis faded, she felt movement behind her. She twisted, frightened, confused, and took sight of a very attractive, very warm, and very naked man in the bed beside her.

She squealed, grabbing quilt and flannel, bringing it to cover herself even though she was wearing a men’s t-shirt. The girl would not stop yelling, the snowy white dog who was about the size of a bear was whining and beating the man’s arm with his tail and Drogon was hissing. Baby screaming, her head pounding and her heart frozen, she did not k or what to do.

The man— who had inky black curls tousled about his head— rolled slightly and she got a brief glimpse of a smooth pale chest, as he sat up and reached for the crying baby. “Shhh….Aemon stop. Lyanna! Knock it off, go take your brother and see what Santa brought and let Ghost out too.” He turned his face to her, a smirk on his pink lips, gleaming from under a dark cropped beard.

Dany wanted to scream. She could't. Too stunned to move.

_Jon Snow._

It was Jon Snow, her Jon Snow, in the bed next to her, sleepy and sexy and handing the baby to the child, urging them out. The girl said something about how she had to hurry, and the door slammed after them, muting the chaos.

He yawned, leaning over and planting a kiss hard on her paralyzed mouth, fingers gripping her braids. He sighed against her. “Mmm….Merry Christmas love. Glad we got them out. Seems every year they wake earlier and earlier.”

And then he flung back the sheets and stood, giving her a long look at his glorious bare backside, before he stepped into loose black sweats and tugged them over his narrow hips. He frowned at her. “Dany? Are you alright? You haven’t said a word.” He continued to speak, opening curtains and shaking on a flannel shirt, muscles across his chest and belly rippling at the movement. “Is your head bothering you? I know you said you had a little headache but didn’t stop you from jumping my bones after we set out the presents.” So that explained his nudity, she guessed. She remained paralyzed, gaping. He went over to the nightstand, floorboards creaking, and walls practically vibrating from the banging downstairs and yelling kids.

She watched him put on a pair of black glasses and scrub his face. A silver wedding band glinted in the sunlight creeping between the curtains. She whipped her head to look at her left hand and there it was. A sapphire and silver wedding set. She cried out, strangled and leaped out of the bed, cracking her knee into the bedside table. “Ow!”

“Hey, you okay? We need to think about downsizing a little more.” Jon walked around the wooden bed to her, reaching the push her hair from her face. He frowned deeper; his Gray eyes soft with concern. “Dany? Love? You’re scaring me. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Because I have, she thought. She muttered to herself, backing up and stumbling into the armoire. The room was closing in too small and filled with things. Pictures on every wall space and soft little chairs and the narrow ceiling. “I...somethings happened this isn’t...I’m not supposed to be here,” she stuttered. Maybe she had a stroke, she was hallucinating this.

Perhaps the family crazy finally caught up to her. She needed to get out, to find someone, anyone in her life to help her. She took one horrified look at Jon and sprinted, running out of the door, unsure where she was going or when she would wake up.

On the landing she stumbled, everything smaller and narrower here than her penthouse. She crashed against a wall, knocking askew photos. Her gaze landed on a large silver framed wedding picture, gasping. It was her. In a beautiful long white coat, over top a white gown, pooled at her feet. She was in the arms of Jon, who wore a black military dress uniform. They were under the red leaves and white branches of a Northern weir wood tree.

Jon called for her, coming out of the room, as horrified as her. “Dany? What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, taking off down the stairs. She fell, on the last step, right into a closet door. Feet banged after her, Jon yelling, kids screaming for “Muna” and the dog still barking. She spotted a set of keys on a small table next to her and flung open the closet, shoving feet into shearling boots, and snatching up a long parka. She ran to a front door, reaching it at the same time it opened, wreath jangling, and two people entering, bickering among themselves.

The woman with mousy brown hair and familiar face looked at her, shouting. “Merry Christmas Dany! Tell Gendry it’s not wrong to be here early!”

She didn’t know who the woman was or Gendry, the big man behind the woman laden down with presents. He grinned at her. “Merry Christmas Dany. Don’t you think it is early? See Arya, she’s still in her pajamas!”

And so she was, but she had to escape, knocking right by them. It was freezing, cold biting at her bare legs and face. Fuck! It was also sunny, snow blinding her. She blinked stars away, waving the keys and hearing a car alarm beep. It came from a Jeep a few years older than what she thought was a current model, but it had four wheels. She ran to it.

Adrenaline kept her warm, muscles jerky and breath uneven. She reversed out of the drive, noting the house was a small stone and timber cottage with tons of decorations and lots of trees. She didn’t recognize it at all. Nor did she recognize the street, snow piled on the sides, fresh fallen on the ground and hanging on the naked tree limbs around the street.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” she repeated, tearing down the street. She glanced around, taking in the stuff around her. loose change, receipts, and… “Ah!” A phone!

It was almost frozen, but hooked up to the car, and she jabbed her numb finger on the screen, trying to find a GPS to tell her where she was or a phone book. She screamed, happy, a map appearing. And she slammed the brakes, almost ending up in the ditch when she zoomed out, mouth dropping.

How...that’s not possible….

There was no way she could have ended up in the North in one night.

Winterfell, to be precise.

The last time she was in Winterfell...gods that was over a decade ago. She went to college at Queen Alysanne's, she remembered some of the main roads, but it had been so long, and she couldn't understand. She didn't recognize anything around her. She picked up the phone, not recognizing the cover. It was red and there were stickers on it. It was _sticky_.

She couldn’t imagine leaving her phone overnight in the car. How would she ever get anything done without it? She tapped the screen, the password page coming up and she blinked. _Password?_ She tapped in her code—her birthday—0404. Nothing. Incorrect.

"What?" she exclaimed. She tried again. Nope. "Fuck!"

The photo on the lock screen...she touched it lightly. Two angelic faces gleaming up, in front of a Christmas tree. Drogon scowling from in front and the massive white dog behind them. The dog had red eyes. An albino, but she did not...she'd never...she traced the face of the young girl. Soft dark curls, almost black, around a pale face, with a familiar set of eyes.... _my eyes._ The boy had them too, except he had silver hair. A shock of it, curly tufts atop his head.

These were her children.

This particular delusion was so strong, intense, and it frightened her. She had never heard of them being like this before. Although what would she know? Perhaps she was in a mental institution, a psych hold, like her father before her. She wiped at a tear trickling out of her eye and then another, until she was rocking back and forth in the front seat, sobbing.

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

"Wake up!" she screamed.

Frozen fingers jammed at the screen again. It worked so long as it was hooked up to the phone, she figured, even if she couldn't get into the hone. She scrolled through the contacts, not recognizing the people in them. Jon, Jon Work, School, Arya, Rickon, Bran... _Who are these people?_

A small voice piped up. They were Jon's family. His cousins. She met them before. She saw a Davos, Marya, cell phones and work respectively. There was a number for someone called Jeor. Also Grey. "Grey!' she yelped. She slammed her finger on it.

It rang a couple times. Grey's soft voice answered. "Merry Christmas Daenerys," he answered.

"Grey!"

"Yes?"

"Oh gods, thank gods, listen, I don’t know what is going on but I’m at Winterfell and..."

Grey laughed. "Of course you are. Listen, it's really early here in Naath...can I call you back? Why aren't you with the kids?"

She blinked. "Kids?"

"Dany, you don't sound well at all. Put Jon on the phone."

So Grey was in on it too. It was a delusion. She hung up, before she could say anything further and instead hit the numbers, she couldn't believe she could remember, but the brain did funny things when it was losing its grasp on reality. The phone rang twice. Margaery's crisp upper-crust accent answered, wary. "Hello?"

"Marge!"

Silence. A soft throat clearing. "Who is this?"

"It's Dany, your partner."

"Excuse me?" The soft politeness replaced with irritation. "Who?"

"Margaery don't joke, it's your partner, it's Dany, we own a law firm together!" She was unraveling. Frantic, desperate. Just trying to cling on the belief that this was not really happening to her.

Margaery scoffed. "I do not know a Dany; I own a firm with Tyrion Lannister" – Tyrion!? – "Now please, do not call me again whoever you are." She hung up.

_Oh no._ That was it. The only two people she could think to call, who might have any idea about what was going on and neither one could help. She wiped her eyes, looking up and out at the empty road. She put the car into gear and moved to get onto the road, when suddenly a car horn exploded beside her and she screamed, swerving and almost going straight into the ditch.

A flashy blue sportscar had almost sideswiped her as she merged back to the road. Dany rolled down the window, prepared to scream at the person, when she saw the driver, who was smiling at her. Eyes bugging from her head, she screamed, fighting with the seatbelt and stumbling from her car, running around to grab hold of the door, before the other car could drive off.

"You!"

Missandei grinned from the blue car, this time wearing a shiny gold dress and matching jewelry. Her curly afro had been tamed down into cornrows and braids, held back with a gold band. "Merry Christmas Daenerys," she greeted.

"No! no! What did you do to me?" Dany sobbed. She didn't know why she was so upset. It seemed like whatever was happening, she had a family, and she had a husband, and it all seemed well enough. It just wasn’t her life. She wanted her life back. She didn't want to be crazy. "Please tell me that I'm not in a hospital or something, please!"

"You're not in a hospital," Missandei assured her, voice soft and gentle. She patted her hand, gripping the edge of the car so tight her knuckles were going red. "Just let go of the car Dany and get back in yours, drive back to your lovely husband and family and enjoy your Christmas morning."

"I can't! Not until I know what is happening! What did you do!?"

The gentle, relatively patronizing smile faded from Missandei's bright red lips. She became harder, cooler. "I told you Daenerys. You brought this on yourself."

"What?" she gasped.

Missandei sighed, rubbing her temple and rolling her eyes. "I can explain...sort of."

"Please!" she howled. She needed answers. Why didn't this woman get that!?

"You challenged fate," Missandei said, like she was supposed to know what that was supposed to mean. She shook her head, chuckling. "And they don't like that."

Her blood cooled further, adrenaline beginning to fade away, and body shaking in chills. "What?" she whispered. "Who...who is _they_?"

"Doesn't matter." Missandei studied her nails, painted gold. Dany caught sight of her rings, the wolf and the dragon one on her index finger now coiled together. She sighed. "What matters is you're getting a glimpse of something. Something you could have had." She grinned, even white teeth blinding against her caramel skin. "And it is going to help you."

It must be some sort of crazy scam. Or she fell on the ice and hit her head very hard. She could not believe this. This sort of stuff didn't happen in real life. "I want my old life back!' she shouted. Her eyes widened further, realizing Missandei was preparing to leave, the engine roaring in the blue sportscar. "No, no please don't leave me!"

Missandei shoved a pair of sunglasses on, shaking her head, refusing. "Sorry Daenerys. You better get home."

_Home._ She didn't know what that was. She fell backwards the tires spinning snow and ice, and the car swerving off down the road. She blinked and it was gone. Like it had never been there to begin with.

* * *

The drive back to the house was only easy because she was on autopilot. She parked in the same spot as before, noticing there was a late model Range Rover in the garage, the door open. Dany climbed out. She didn't even feel her legs, shuffling into the house, nervous and scared.

She got into what she supposed was a mudroom, and shrugged off her parka, just in time for the door to the inside of the house to fling open, almost knocking her off her feet again. It was Jon. He was furious. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded, his gray eyes burning behind his slightly smudged glasses. He pushed the door shut and pinned her towards the wall. "You just left! the kids are scared and upset; I'm pissed as hell...what the fuck?!"

He had every right to be upset, if he as her husband. She swallowed, not sure of this Jon. The last time she'd spoken to him...they had not been friendly. They'd been upset with each other and sad. The unwelcome end to their relationship, because they could not seem to get through the distance between them. She fumbled with the car keys; her hands red from the cold.

Jon looked down at them and sighed, nudging her into a half bath off the mudroom. He ran the taps and waited a second, before he took her hands, lightly putting them in the warm water. She stood, letting it thaw out her skin, and he returned with a thick blanket, covering her. He kept his arms around her, holding tight from behind. She was cocooned and closed her eyes, savoring it.

She couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

"You scared me," he murmured into her ear. "Whatever you're doing, it's not funny." He pulled her hair from her face, turning it up towards his. Love shined back. he furrowed his brow, whispering. "Is your head alright? You don't still have a headache?"

_My mother_ , she idly thought, touching her forehead and shook it slightly. Her mother had an aneurysm and died. Her father had severe mental illness. There was also Viserys... "No I'm alright I think...I’m...I'm sorry."

He kissed her temple, whispering. "Don't do that again, alright? Come on, take the back steps up and get changed. I told the kids you ran out to find Santa to get them batteries for some of the toys I forgot needed them." He opened a cabinet, rummaged ,and handed her an unopened package of batteries. "You can give it to them."

Dany moved on instinct alone, finding the 'back steps' which were nothing more than what seemed to be a ladder in a closet. She stood in their bedroom, scanning. It was a mess. Clothes everywhere. She opened the armoire. Gone were her designer suits, replaced with comfortable yet stylish clothing. She took down a large beige sweater and put on a pair of jeans. As she did, she ran her finger over her lower abdomen, gazing at her reflection in a floor length mirror wedged in the corner.

There were lines. Very faint white lines. "Stretch marks," she murmured. Because she was pregnant. Had been pregnant. She had not thought of children in a long time. She didn't think she could have them. Apparently, she could.

She left the room and went downstairs, jumping aside when the big white dog lunged for her. "Ghost!" the little girl yelled, running up and hugging him. She peered up, blinking the same violet eyes as Dany. "Hi Muna! Muna, come see! Santa got me my Northern Girl doll I wanted!"

Dany swallowed, not sure what that was, but nodded and smiled at Ghost, rubbing his fluffy head. "Good boy," she murmured, walking by and into the living room.

It overwhelmed her. It was warm, from the large stone and brick fireplace. The walls were gray, and the furniture overstuffed and well-used, a huge real tree in the corner, tipping slightly under the weight of all the ornaments and lights. The young woman and man were in the same chair, fighting over the plastic wrapping on some sort of electronic gadget.

Hanging over the fireplace were six stockings. Jon, Dany, Lyanna, Aemon, Drogon, and Ghost. "Lyanna and Aemon," she murmured. The names of her children. She had a sudden memory. Jon's mother. Her favorite uncle.

The baby screamed, rolling up and toddling on fat feet across wrapping paper, arms up. "Mu!" he shouted.

She lifted him, instinctively, and felt a warmth wash over her she had never felt before. He pressed his hand to her face. It was sticky. She forced a smile, leaving the room and stood in the entryway, which she'd raced out of not long ago. She spotted a tote bag on a halltree and rushed to it, shoving a hand in to search for a wallet. _Anything._

Aemon pulled on her hair while she fumbled and took out a license. "Dany Snow," she whispered. She lived in Winterfell. 998 Wall Drive. She shoved the bag aside and returned to the living room. Jon was laughing at something Lyanna was telling him, showing him her doll, which looked like her with dark hair and purple eyes. She set down the baby, who ran off to the couple in the chair.

She tapped Jon on the shoulder, distracting him. "I have to ask you something," she blurted out. She swallowed hard; eyes wide. "Please do not get mad."

"Fine," he murmured. He stepped into the kitchen, which was also hot. There were the beginnings of a Christmas dinner on the counter, and leftover from breakfast. He arched his brows, arms crossing. The worn black shirt he wore pulled on his biceps. He had his dark curls pulled in a messy bun. It should not have looked as good as it did.

She glanced at his feet. He was wearing wolf slippers. He wiggled his toes in them. "Wolves?"

He frowned deeper. "Gift from the kids," he paused, chuckling momentarily, "Which means it's from you..." Concern replaced the frown, voice dropping. "What the seven hells is going on Dany?"

"Please, just don't yell," she whispered, touching her temple. Now she felt like she was getting a headache. It was all just so much. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to look at him, trying to piece together what she could. "I'm going to ask you a weird question."

"Dany this entire morning has been weird."

Obviously. She pressed ahead. "Did I go to Braavos? To do the internship?"

Jon turned around, opening the fridge and removing some things, as he began to prepare the Christmas dinner. No doubt he thought her question strange but did not mention it. instead, he shook his head. "No, you didn't," he answered. He leaned a hand on the counter, the other on his hip. "Dany what is this about?"

The evening— Christmas Eve— she left him at the airport flooded into her memories. She Hadn't thought of that night in ten years. Self-preservation, she supposed. Never looking back. If you looked back, you were lost. It was a mantra she lived by. Now it must have caught up to her. Now she had to look back in order to figure out what was going on in her present. She swallowed hard, whispering. "So I...I did not get on the plane."

"No, you did."

She blinked, confused more than ever. "I don't..."

Jon reached up, his fingertips skimming over her hairline. She shivered, not from cold, from another peculiar feeling, warmth spreading throughout her abdomen to her limbs. She gazed up at him, his eyes soft, loving. She had not seen that look in so long. She craved it. She didn't understand why she was reacting like this, to someone she did not know.

But she did know him.

He tipped her chin down with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly. Perhaps they spoke of this before. Reminiscing as it were. "You got to your layover in King's Landing," he murmured, cocking his head to the side, a lock of his dark curls slipping free from around his ear. It gave him a boyish quality. "And you called me. You couldn't do it. Flew back and...and here we are."

"I'm a lawyer," she blurted. She was still a lawyer, that was not disputed...right?

He smirked. "Of course you're a lawyer and I'm a teacher."

_Teacher!?_ "Yes," she lied, like she knew. She plastered a smile to her face, hoping it was not too fake. She tried to remember, digging through the protective layers on her memories. Yes, of course, he wanted to be a teacher. To share his love of history with everyone else. After the military, she remembered, he wanted to do that. And he did. It was like they planned but...different.

He kissed the top of her head. "Go upstairs, get an aspirin, wash your face, and come back down here and help me."

Cooking was not her strong suit. She didn't know if that carried over or was a development in this world. She was about to say okay, when he laughed, kissing her hard. _Oh my_ , she thought, his mouth firm over hers. He tasted like chocolate and peppermint and coffee. She did not even get a chance to return the kiss, so shocked, when he yanked back and lightly patted her bottom. That same warmth that had spread through her at his touch heightened, downright burning her.

"Like I'll let you near my turkey."

So she still didn't cook very well, thank Gods. She laughed, nervous, and slipped away. She stumbled down a hallway and into a room. It was an office, or library of sorts. Built-in bookshelves crammed and overflowing with books, photos, and other knick-knacks. She pushed over to a laptop open on a weathered chestnut desk and hit a button.

There was no password, thankfully, but the screensaver was of the four of them, no doubt right after the baby was born, for he was far tinier and face scrunched up, in her arms. Dany touched the image, tracing her face. The beatific smile, silver curls tumbling over her shoulder, Jon's arm around her and his other holding the little girl, who stood and gazed down at her brother, grinning.

Who was this woman?

This woman looked so bloody happy. Peaceful. Face smooth, free from worry, nothing could detract from it.

Dany blinked, breaking her trance, and opened up the internet browser. She typed in 'Jon Snow' and waited. A moment later the first link led her to Ironwood Secondary School's faculty page for Jon Snow, year 10 and 11 history and civics teacher. His staff photo had him smiling, barely, glasses perched on his nose, his dark hair pulled from his face, and he was wearing a white shirt with a dark blue sweater vest.

He was the most attractive man she had ever seen. And she had no idea she had a thing for teachers, but oh my, she could hardly tear her eyes from him.

She scrolled down, a couple candids from a yearbook showing him writing on the board, and another as he stood to the side, watching students putting on a project that she suspected had to do with the Iron Throne, as there was a crude cardboard replica of it in the center of the class. He was casual, at ease, and she didn't know if she'd ever seen him like that before.

That she could remember, of course.

And she wasn't sure what she remembered. Everything bled into itself. The life she'd had, the one she currently had, and this one. This weird parallel universe she'd fallen into. Or was it parallel? If she wasn't currently living it? Could it be parallel if you split off from the same moment and live two lives? She didn't understand.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She didn't know if they were in regret or...or confusion. She wiped at them with the back of her hand, looking up when the door pushed open without preamble. "Muna," the young girl Lyanna chirped, walking in holding her new doll. She smiled. "Come on. Come help me dress Anna."

"Anna?" she wondered. Was there a third child she didn't know?

Lyanna made a face. "My new doll. Her name is Lyanna just like me, but I'm calling her Anna because that's not confusing."

No, no, couldn't possibly make this more confusing for her. She nodded numbly and stood up, walking around to take the girl's hand, letting her bring her back to the living room, where she sat down, taking it all in. All the photos, the _noise_...the changes.

This was the life she'd had without going to Braavos. With Jon.

A couple of hours later, after playing with Lyanna and changing a diaper— she had no idea what she was doing but it seemed that Aemon didn't mind— she sat down at the dinner table. The young woman she learned was Arya— she couldn't believe this was the same girl she'd met years ago, Jon's younger cousin. Arya was brash and fun and in love with her boyfriend Gendry, but she didn't seem like it on the outset, calling him names like Bull.

Gendry was very kind. He sensed her distress from time to time and commiserated. "I sometimes wake up and feel like I'm a stranger in someone else's body. Is that weird?"

"It's called imposter syndrome," Jon said. He was making a plate for Lyanna, who kept trying to shove her spoon into the big bowl of mashed potatoes. "And it's not wrong but definitely not normal."

What if I had that, Dany thought, suddenly wondering which version of her life was the imposter. This one? Or the one where she was asleep in a penthouse with naught but a cat to keep her company?

"Dany you're being super weird." Arya laughed, pointing to the green beans. "Pass those over."

She acted on body response alone, not thinking, handing over the beans, and briefly closing her eyes, wondering when this would end.


	2. "are you an alien?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany adapts to her new life with an unexpected ally, and also learns of some surprising developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeeeep! Here is part 2! Also I’m not answering questions about if this fic will be exactly like the movie ending or not or what I do at the end. That’s part of the fun.
> 
> And no, Shadows is not on hiatus or abandoned. I paused to write about 75k in words of Christmas fics, no big deal. I’ll return to finish it once these are done.

She was bloody exhausted.

Mentally, physically, emotionally...she did not think she had ever been this tired. Never in her life, not with the biggest cases, the time she had to argue before the Grand Court of Westeros, all the screaming matches with Cersei Lannister or the cold fury of Olenna Tyrell, she was not tired afterward.

A Christmas day with a husband, a child, a baby, and two other random family members— one of whom she last remembered meeting when the woman was in primary school— all of whom she had no memory of and trying not to slip up, while also preventing herself from comparing what was happening to what she should be doing. She should have been finishing up the preparations for the Lannister-Baratheon hearing.

Not brushing mashed potatoes and pieces of green bean from her hair after a very excited six-year-old flung her fork so fast from the plate they catapulted across the table to reach her.

She escaped most of the rest of the day; Jon made excuses for her claiming she had a terrible headache and he wanted her to rest, he'd clean up after he made all the dinner. Arya and Gendry left, leaving the children to her and Jon. And Jon did that too. He got the girl— Lyanna— into her bath and her pajamas and ultimately into bed. He did the same with the baby.

All the while she hid in their room, holding her head in her hands, trying to figure out this entire mess. These things just didn't _happen._ Missandei was something else entirely. A cruel joke. A _glimpse_ she said. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Dany wondered when it would end. Whenever she would wake up in her nice king-sized bed with Drogon and go back to her life.

A life that was much quieter than this one.

"Hey," Jon called, entering the room.

The loudness that had been thudding in her head for the last twenty minutes had been the baby. Little Aemon, she remembered, her heart aching. She wanted to name a child after her oldest brother, but it had been painful to think of. Aemon had been her uncle; he’d been kind and smart and she loved him so much. If she ever had children, she’d name them after one of them. She didn't think she could though. Two children, after hearing doctors tell her from puberty onwards that she would struggle in that department, she wondered how it happened.

She noted the baby's red, sticky cheeks, the beating fists on his father's chest. "Is he alright?" she asked, rather stupidly. She loved children, or she had. She tried to stay away from them. They reminded her she couldn't have any. It was easier to pretend they didn't exist, so she didn't miss what she couldn't have. None of her friends had kids.

Jon handed him to her; she automatically tucked him into her arm, instinct kicking in. Immediately, Aemon began to nuzzle her chest, pushing his fists through the folds of her shirt. "Oh, oh my!" she exclaimed, trying to stop him as he pushed his hand on her breast. "Stop," she mumbled.

The mattress creaked, Jon lowering himself onto it beside her. The frown he shot her told her that whatever she was doing was wrong. She gazed at him, confused. He dropped his gaze to her chest, eyebrows lifting. "Feed him. That's why I brought him to you. He's not feeling well."

Was this a thing? When babies were sick you fed them? She didn't even know if she could. How could she possibly feed a baby she never birthed?

_But you did Dany. You did give birth to him._

Very aware of Jon watching her, like he was testing her, she pushed at her shirt, the buttons in the worn fabric easily popping out. It must have been her acknowledgement of it, but she felt her chest hurting suddenly, and she watched, enraptured as Aemon—thankfully—nuzzled and found her tightening nipple, his tiny pink lips sealing tight around it and his soft little hand pushing beside his cheek. Quiet sucking sounds began, his purple eyes closing as he pushed his hand on her breast and nursed.

It was the most peculiar feeling she’d ever felt. Warmth, an instant need to protect him. No doubt she'd been doing this for over a year. In fact she thought the child was older than most for breast-feeding. As though reading her thoughts, Jon sighed, his hand resting over her thigh, a comfortable weight, as his other arm went to crook behind his head, dropping lightly to her shoulder. "I know he's weaned, but I think when he gets scared or sick, it's just comforting. You keep saying you'll stop, but you kept going with Lyanna until she was almost two, off and on."

Indeed, little Aemon had stopped crying and his eyes were shut, the comforting action of nursing and being close to her having calmed his stress. She swallowed the lump, massive and swelling, in her throat, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. In all the years she had never imagined she could feel this way.

_  
I'm nursing my son. Me. Dany._

  
A couple of tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. "He's so beautiful." He truly was. Soft, powdery-smelling curls, long dark lashes against his pale skin. He weighed warm and heavy in her arms. She did not know this child. Did not have memory of him growing inside of her. Birthing him. Yet he had her nose and her lips and her facial structure. He was half of her.

And half of Jon.

Jon. She glanced sideways; he was watching her. The look shining out of his gray eyes, slightly shadowed behind the glare of the bedside table on his glasses, was pure adoration. It had been a very long time since she felt adored. Of sure, men wanted to be with her. They liked the status she gave them. They liked how she looked with them.

Not one of them adored her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her knee. He quirked his lip up. "I love you."

Her cheeks warmed. She did not know what to say. She still did not know him, despite the circumstances. She was still choked up. "I know."

"Perhaps you should go to the doctor." He worried, frowning. "Maybe you had a stroke in your sleep or something."

"No, I...no doctor, please." She must have seen one though at some point. To have children. She glanced at him again. "How did we make these miracles?"

Maybe she asked him that a lot. She really wanted to know, but he chuckled, teasing her, and rising to peck a kiss to her cheek. "We made them because I told you I didn't believe that stupid doctor that said you couldn't get pregnant." He smirked. "Jon Snow, amateur gynecologist at your service."

She burst into laughter. It felt good, tingling throughout her limbs. A quick look at Aemon noted that he'd completely fallen asleep, mouth off her breast. She pulled her shirt over to cover herself and Jon took him, in what she imagined was practiced. She watched Jon get up, walking Aemon around the room, swaying gently with him. She licked her lips. "How long have we been married?"

Unintentionally, another common thing she suspected, as he grinned, cheekily shooting back. "For a thousand years."

And unintentionally, she blurted out: "We'd be pretty old."

It was the right thing to say. It was always what they said to each other. Their little back and forth. She remembered. Hadn't thought about it since that terrible breakup, but she remembered. Never forgot it.

He lowered his lips to hers, gently kissing, and smiled against them. She smiled in return, their teeth clicking together. "I love you," he repeated. She turned her head up, unsure if she was going to say it back, but he'd already walked out of the room with Aemon.

  
She climbed off the bed and padded into the bathroom, popping an aspirin. As she turned around to do her business, she jumped, shocked to see Lyanna standing in the doorway. "Seven hells!" she exclaimed, hand pressing to her chest to still her flying heartrate. She blinked at the girl, who smiled innocently. "How did you get here so quietly?"

"Like a ghost," Lyanna said, swaying from side to side, still holding her new doll. It had already undergone several changes of clothing and now wore the same nightgown as Lyanna. She whispered, smiling. "I can’t sleep. Read to me."

This must have been a thing. Like the nursing Aemon when he got upset. Or saying what she said to Jon. She followed Lyanna numbly, out of their room and across the hall into the little girl's room. It was the room of a girlish tomboy, filled with pink, purple, frilly bedclothes and curtains, but there was a hockey stick and skate bag in the corner, a framed football jersey with her name on it on the wall, and a horse-riding helmet hooked over the turret of a princess castle.

There also happened to be a bookcase that went from floor to ceiling, painted bright pink, overflowing with books. It was upon this bookcase, Dany noted, sat a gorgeous snow globe, with Winterfell castle in the center. She went straight to it, touching the worn bottom, edges smudged along the globe's base. She picked it up and soon, watching the snow falling over the castle, where a tiny wolf sat at the gate, white with red eyes.

She tipped it over, staring at the inscription on the bottom.

_For when you need snow in Braavos – KITN_

_KITN_

"King in the North," she murmured, remembering how they gave themselves silly nicknames like that. He was the King in the North and she was the Dragon Queen. She shook the globe again, glancing at Lyanna, who was watching her curiously. Her purple eyes were exactly the same, unnerving her.

Lyanna smiled politely. "My snow globe," she said proudly. "You gave it to me."

"I did?"

"Yes. My birfday."

"Oh, well..."

Lyanna cocked her head. Her dark curls were sticking up, a red crease on her cheek from the pillow. One of the curls formed a perfect ringlet, right at her temple. Dany had the urge to tug on it, watch it uncoil and spring back. She put the globe back on the shelf. The little girl continued to study her. "I want a book," she finally said.

"Oh, well...there's quite a lot here."

  
"Pick one."

"Me?" Dany did not know which one to pick. There were so many to choose. Her fingers drifted over the spines, falling up and down on the edges of the hardbacks and paperbacks. Picture books and surprisingly chapter books, for someone so young. She tried to ignore the feeling she now had that she was under some kind of a test. _Kids always stare, don't worry about it._ She looked over at Lyanna, who now sat on the edge of her bed. "Um, how about you give me a clue?"

"My favorite."

"Oh alright then." She picked up a book that sat separate on the bookcase. It was pretty beaten up, pages even folded up. It was _The Velveteen Rabbit._ She thought that might be it. It was sitting out after all. Lya cocked her head again, face a mask.

Maybe it was not her book. She set it down and picked up another. _Goodnight Moon._ Lya smiled, her little purple eyes crinkling with her apple cheeks moving up from the smile. Except Dany still wasn't sure. She bit her bottom lip and took down another. _Pippi Longstocking._

  
At that, Lya stood up and calmly put down her doll. She walked over and removed a book, holding it up quietly. "Where the Wild Things Are," Dany read. She remembered that book as a kid.

"That's my favorite Muna."

Perhaps her favorite changed often. She walked over to the bed and made to sit in the fluffy pink chair beside it, when Lya spoke softly. "Are you an alien?"

_Oh no._ Dany's eyes widened, trapped. She closed her mouth, opening it and snapped it shut again. "Um, why...why do you say that?"

"Because you are weird."

"Oh."

Lyanna did not seem upset at all. She crawled in the bed and patted beside her. The girl's urging prompted Dany to sit on the bed next to her and she snuggled up. She gazed at her curiously. "You are a nice alien. I like you. Will my Muna come back?"

_I don't know, I don't know what this is or where I even am._ She swallowed and nodded, whispering. "Yes, I believe so."

"I help you." She opened the book and pointed to the page. "My favorite. You sit in bed with me."  
  


Dany smiled, whispering. "You'll help me, huh? I will appreciate it very much."

Lyanna beamed and pointed to the page, saying she would start reading and Dany could correct her. She nodded idly, her fingers going to stroke through the girl's soft hair.

_I need all the help I can get._

* * *

  
The next day Dany was as confused as ever.

She woke up, finding Jon had already gotten up, and it was still dark out. She almost never slept in anymore. She climbed from bed and rummaged around, looking for workout clothing and put it on. She intended to go on a run.

If she was going to wake up in this strange world, she would try to keep some of her routines down.

She was going over the previous day in her head, the odd feeling the previous evening of sleeping in a bed with a man she once shared everything with. She remembered how he started off the night on his own, realizing that he wasn’t angry with her when he fell asleep with his back to her. She did the same and woke in the middle of the night, an arm around her and her head in the crook of his neck, flush against his chest. He always did that; he liked his independence in the beginning but subconsciously sought her out during the night.

She finished getting dressed and tied her shoes, hopping off the bed. Only to turn around at the door opening, a very sweaty Jon Snow entering the room. "Hey," he greeted breathlessly. She gaped. His hair was damp, sweat curling the ends away from his temples in tight rings. He was shedding clothing eagerly, t-shirt and underlayers and fleece running tights under his gym shorts. "Fuck it's freezing out there today. Could have used your dragon blood."

"You ran outside?" she gasped. It was freezing in the house, let alone outside with the elements. The sky was still pitch dark, frost clinging to the windows. She licked her lips subconsciously, his chest revealed to her. His muscles were quivering with his deep breaths, skin flushed near his neck.

Jon smirked. "Of course I did. Every morning." Concern furrowed his brow. "Are you feeling better?"

_Honestly, I have no idea._ She was going to answer eyes, when he turned to the bathroom, shucking off his bottoms and revealing the most exquisite arse in all the known world. She’d seen it already but _gods_. She could never prepare for it.

Memories flooded her. Teasing him about it. Biting it. Squeezing it.

Her jaw dropped, staring at it. He was unabashed with his nudity. Always had been with her. But gods forbid anyone else tease him about it and he would flush and then somewhat preen. The sight of it after ten years...how was it possible it had gotten _better_?

He caught sight of her lusty look. "You want to join?" he teased. He walked over to her and she gulped, averting her eyes. They were strangers to her. He looped his arms around her and tugged her against his chest, mouth dropping. He was clammy, sweaty and cold, and she giggled, pushing at his face.

"You're all sweaty." She pouted. "And cold."

"So warm me up," he murmured, hand cupping the back of her head, slanting his mouth to cover hers before she knew what was happening.

The kiss had not even begun, and she knew she was screwed. She moaned into him, grabbing the back of his head, startled but soon melting under his light probing, his soft lips rubbing over hers, heat and intensity rising between them. She exhaled hard through her nose, tickling back his hair from his face, and he chuckled against her. She pushed him towards the bed; she was forgetting herself, desperate to find out if this was still the same, unable to believe she was about to sleep with a man she _did not know_

And the door opened.

"Fuck," Jon cursed, pushing her in front of him as a shield. Since she was tinier than him by a lot, it didn't do much and he grabbed for a blanket, hurriedly wrapping it around him. Eyebrows arched. "Yes, Ms. Lyanna?"

"I'm hungry," Lyanna demanded, not bothering to look beyond her. She scowled. "Feed me." And she turned, storming off.

Dany looked at the clock. It was six in the morning. "Is this..." she began, wanting to know if it was normal. Must be. She glanced at his naked arse again and knew she had to leave.  
  


She didn't wait for him to say anything, hurriedly leaving the room and going downstairs. Lyanna was in the kitchen, trying to drag a stool to the counter. She didn't understand what she was doing and realized she wanted to get to the cupboard. "Um, hang on sweetling."

"I'm prumia."

"Huh?"

Even in her muddled sleepy state Lyanna corrected her again. " _Issa prumia_ ," she told her, climbing atop the stool. "My name."

"Oh." She smiled softly, repeating it in Common Tongue instead of Valyrian. "My heart."

Lyanna grinned. "My muna."

That warm, floating, tingling feeling returned to her limbs. She barely paid attention. It seemed her run was not happening, because even as she prepared breakfast for Lya, Aemon began to cry. She collected him the same time Jon came out of the room, freshly showered and in a t-shirt and jeans, feet in thick socks on the cold hardwood.

He greeted Aemon with tickles and raspberries on the toddler's tummy, the little boy squealing happily. Dany placed him in his chair and prepared the same thing for him as she did for Lya. Banana and peanut butter toast, which Lyanna told her was her favorite thing.

She cut a small square, preparing to feed it to Aemon, who reached for it. "No!" Lyanna exclaimed suddenly, at the same time Jon came into the room, shouting: "Dany, no, what are you doing!?"

"What?" she cried, startled, and dropped the toast onto the tray. Aemon reached for it, but Lyanna grabbed it and Jon swung Aemon up into his arms, hurrying him to the sink, shouting again. The yelling scared the boy, who began to sob. She blinked, confused, whispering to Lya. "What did I do?"

"No peanut butter," Lyanna said seriously, her tiny brows puckered. She shook her head, whispering. "He gets sick."

"Oh...oh no!" She covered her face with her hands, horrified at what she'd almost done. Still crying, Jon put Aemon in the pen in the living area and she stumbled off to the office, hands in her hair. He stormed after her and she cried, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry!"

"Dany what the seven hells you could have killed him!" Jon exclaimed. He at least closed the door; she hoped the children couldn't hear them yelling. He wasn't so much angry as frightened. He reached for her face, cupping her chin, terrified. "Dany, I want you to go to a doctor. You're not yourself."

Aemon was allergic to peanuts; she almost gave him peanut butter. She wiped her eyes, tears falling down her face, hot and angry. Angry at how lonely she felt, even in this house full of people. Angry at how she almost hurt a child she did not know but loved with all her heart. So bloody angry.

She shook her head, before dropping it to his chest, unable to hold it up any longer. "I do not need a doctor," she whispered. The doctor would find nothing wrong with her. She sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I am so sorry."

He enveloped her tight against him, whispering. "Hey, we all fuck up." He pushed his face into her neck, while his knuckles dragged up and down her spine soothingly. She relaxed into him; eyes fluttering shut. He felt so good. It felt good to be... _loved_. He tugged back, kissing her brow, mumbling, "Remember when I messed up the formula mix for Lya? Basically fed her paste. She was puking for hours."

Even if she didn't remember it, she smiled, knowing he was doing what he could to comfort her further. "Thank you," she murmured.

"I love you." He kissed her again, briefly, and let go reluctantly. He frowned, walking to the door. "I'll deal with them; don't you have to go meet Arya today?"

Did she? She bit her bottom lip, unsure about what she even did in this world, beyond the fact she was still a lawyer. "Um, yes?"

  
"Perks of being a teacher," he teased her, turning and walking backwards to the door. "I get holidays off. I'll deal with the kids, you go on your run, try to relax." He sobered up. "It's alright Dany. I just don't know what's going on with you. I wish I could help, whatever it is."

_Me too._

Dany waited for him to leave, before she spun around to the desk, rummaging and trying to figure out her next steps. She didn't know what she did with Arya, didn't know what her plans for the day were. She dragged out a battered messenger bag, removing a leather portfolio. Flicking it open, a couple business cards tumbled out. She picked them up and studied the script writing.

_Daenerys Targaryen, Solicitor, Children's Guardian_

It was for her company, she discovered, through some more investigation in the files and computer on the desk. She smiled to herself, sinking into the chair and leaning back. She gazed up at the photos on the wall. Children's pictures framed like priceless works of art above the fireplace. The company she no doubt founded at some point after they relocated permanently to Winterfell after law school and Jon's military service.

She called it _Rhaella's Dragons_. "Muna," she breathed, thinking of her mother, the mother she never knew. She knew her mother had struggled to birth even the three of them—and only her and Viserys lived. She was a child's guardian, advocating for them in court. What was best for _them_ and not the parents.

  
Joy filled her, mingling with the warmth from Jon's touch and the leaping feeling throughout her each time one of the children smiled. It had been not even one day, and she was forgetting herself. She pushed away and went outside, after bundling up in a coat and gloves and hat, but it was so bloody cold, even with the sun coming up, she turned around and went right back inside.

The remainder of the day was back and forth between learning her new world and fucking it up. Or generally wondering why she'd made the decisions she had. After learning her new passcode, rather discreetly—1229 for some reason—she was able to locate her office in downtown Winterfell.

Arya was apparently her social worker, licensed and employed to work immediately with the police if necessary and to do cheeks on the children. She even met with a couple of clients, feigning illness for her lack of understanding in some cases. She was a smart woman, she learned quickly, and by the end of the day, Arya had only commented on her _weirdness_ once an hour instead of multiple times a minute.

  
"You sure you're okay?" she asked, as she was locking up the office.

"Fine," Dany lied.

Arya shrugged. "Whatever. So, I didn't get to find out yesterday, what big gift did my stupid brother get you?"

She had to remind herself that the Starks did not call Jon their cousin—only Sansa from what she could remember of the few times she'd met the preteen who now must be a grown woman—since Jon lived with them from the moment he was born. Dany frowned, not sure what he got her—she'd missed present opening—she supposed it didn’t matter. "Um, it...personal," she lied.

"Ha, didn’t know the virgin had it in him."

"What?" she exclaimed, startled. She flushed, Arya waggling her brows knowingly, as they came to stand outside of her car. Dany flushed. "No, not at all like that! Just...it's personal."

She smirked. "Sure, don't tell me. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes." If she did not wake up back in her penthouse again. Dany watched Arya walk off and took a moment to look up and down the street they were on, just off the main square of Winterfell. In the distance she could see the lights from the castle, peeking above the trees. The Starks lived there. Or they had. She still didn't know if things were still the same with that relationship.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She picked it out and stared, transfixed, at the image. "Oh gods," she blurted.

_Vis._

That's all it said on the screen, with the image of her brother hugging her in a tight squeeze, both of them grinning, making faces. She did not recall a time she _ever_ smiled around Viserys. They were usually screaming at each other. Or not speaking at all.

She gingerly pressed the green button to accept the call. "Hello?" she whispered.

In Valyrian, Viserys's pretentious voice filtered into her ear. "Hello baby sister."

To her shock, his tone was not snarky or rude or condescending. He was _pleasant._ She blinked. "Um, hi."

"That's all you have to say to me? Didn't you get my gift for your dumb Northern tree holiday?" He was teasing her, jovial. He didn't wait for a reply. "I will never understand why you refused to come to Essos and hang out with me but stayed up North with your weird trees and your weirder husband. Did the kids like their presents from favorite Uncle Vis?"

_What in the bloody fucking fucking seven fucking hells?_ Dany could not process. She was friendly with VIS!? She was joking and teasing and had a good relationship with him!? _HOW?_ "Um, yes they did," she mumbled, sure that they did as they were likely toys of some form and it appeared like all had been well on the present front.

He chuckled. "I wish I could have visited, but Arianne on bed rest you know." He sighed. "Anyway, didn't hear from you or the wolf man."

Arianne? Bed rest? Dany did not understand this universe at all. How was it possible that she was friendly with Vis in this world when even when she was going to Braavos she wasn't speaking with him? She nibbled her lower lip, pinching her nose, a headache forming once more. "I am sorry, I wasn't feeling well...headache."

Vis went on high alert, sharply demanding: "Headache? Did you go to the doctor?"

She knew his concern was with respect to their mother. Aneurysm during childbirth, while rare, had sent them all nervous each time they got a terrible headache and accounted for Jon's concern too. "I am fine," she repeated. A constant refrain. She sighed. "I need to get home Vis."

"Alright, just checking on you little sis. Love you."

The words she had never heard him say, not once. Even as children, in foster homes together, in various family friends' mansions and boarding schools, she'd never heard him say he loved her. He protected her when he could, but it was more out of loyalty to their family name than love. Surprised, tears pricked her eyes. She did not realize how much she longed to hear him say those words, a true family member. "I...I love you too," she cracked out, but he had already disconnected.

She got into the car and sat still, a light snowfall dusting over her windshield and the heat from her breath fogging up the glass. This world was foreign to her with such similar elements it was more confusing than scary. She was a lawyer and that was easy, but she was a mother and that was hard. She was a sister in both worlds, but in this one she was friendly with her brother and in the other she forgot he existed most of the time.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her gloved hand, Dany started the car, and drove through Winterfell, relying on the GPS to help guide her home. In her drive, she noted the lights on all the naked trees and the comforting small-town appeal it held for her. They visited Winterfell often enough in university, because Queen Alysanne's wasn't too far away, and Jon's family basically owned the town. She ended up in front of the gate leading to the castle, a sign noting the opening and closing hours for the museum, and holiday hours for the sept and the Godswood, which noted it would be closed on New Year's Eve for a private gathering.

The Starks must be doing something, she figured, preparing to drive off, when she saw a sign pointing towards a newer building. She frowned at it, whispering, "The Robb Stark Sports and Recreation Arena?"

A hook around her navel tugged her, directing her to turn the wheel away from the main road and up towards the arena she could see in the distance. There were cars in the parking, lights blazing from the building, and she got out, walking up and into the foyer, gazing at the shiny newness of the state-of-the-art facility. She walked to a plaque, beside the door, nondescript and unassuming.

"Oh no," she whispered, touching the edge of it.

_In loving memory of beloved son, brother, and cousin, Robb Stark._

The photo above it was of grinning Robb—she remembered him from university— leaning on a hockey stick on an ice rink. She knew he was good at just about everything he set his mind to. Robb and Jon were very close, just a year apart, and while Robb went to university at Torrhen's College—an elite private school—on the opposite side of the north, they remained close and she'd met him numerous times.

  
He was always smiling, laughing, and generally good-natured. He was to go into the family business, running the estate and taking his father's spot in the House of Lords. She didn’t know if either were still alive in, well _her_ world. She wondered if they weren’t. She touched the plaque again, reading how Robb loved sports and hanging out with his teammates, and the arena was in honor of him.

She quickly checked Searcheros. The first article was his obituary and she scanned it fast. Robb died in a car accident, brought on by road rage. She looked again and was glad to see Roose Bolton was serving prison time for the incident. As she read further, her heart continued to fall. Robb's untimely death led to significant stress on the Stark family. Ned died of a heart attack the following year. Catelyn Stark not long after that— ostensibly by grief although many said she drank herself to death. The House of Lords seat belonged to Bran Stark, who was paralyzed from a childhood fall, and spent the majority of his time at Greywater Watch, a nonprofit for disabled kids. No word on Rickon Stark, who Dany did not know at all, and it just said Arya live din Winterfell. The business was now run by Sansa Stark, who by all accounts it seemed, had turned into the exact sort of woman Dany figured for the spoiled child she met years ago.

And Jon, she discovered, was not mentioned. Which he likely preferred.

She left the arena, arriving back at the house, and upon entry was greeted by a squealing Lyanna, who leaped at her, trying to hug her tight around the neck and chatter about something and also hold her doll. "Oh my," Dany laughed, squeezing her gently. She set her on the ground, kneeling to her height, smiling warmly.

It was good to be welcomed like this, she thought, glancing at Jon who was in the kitchen taking something out of the oven and Aemon at the table in his booster seat, laughing and banging a spoon. Ghost was gnawing on a bone the size of her head, and Drogon lurked in the corner, scowling. She met Lyanna's gaze again, the girl taking a deep breath between stories and whispering. "Did you do okay today Muna?"

The twinkle in Lyanna's eyes told Dany that it was about their 'secret.' She nodded quickly, whispering. "Yes, I did. Thank you issa prumia," remembering her nickname.

She giggled. "Uncle Vis called now. He says he said hi to you."

"I talked to him." She would have to ask Jon about her brother, but she stood and waited for Lyanna to scamper off, about to say hello to him before Jon swept her off her feet with a bruising kiss. She giggled, hand son his chest. "Thank you for that!"

"I missed you." He kissed her again, faster, smiling. "Vis called. He said you sounded weird."

"Um, yes, I just..." She wondered how to bring it up but thank Gods Jon did first.

Jon went back to the dish he'd pulled from the oven, speaking over the sound of Aemon's spoon banging and Lyanna's shouting. "I know you guys have only been close since Aemon's birth, but it's good to see that he is remembering to call and talk to the kids and stuff."

She went to greet Aemon, who was screaming for her, and kissed his soft head. She inhaled him, eyes closing. She loved that smell. Powder, shampoo, and baby lotion. She didn't realize she loved it, but damn she did. "Yes, well...all the more reason to be grateful for him." She grinned at Aemon, who lifted his toy spoon to her lips. "Thank you darling."

It was easy to love them. They made it easy. They were her _children_. It had been two days. This dream, hallucination, whatever it happened to be. It scared her still, but the children...well she always liked kids, wanted them, and knowing she had them? That seemed to make some of the fear disappear.

After changing and returning to dinner, Dany watched her husband. He was so good with the children, listening to them, but also disciplining when Lyanna tried to blow bubbles in her milk and Aemon tossed some of the mac and cheese onto the floor for Ghost. She cleaned up after them while he played; it appeared that this was a routine.

He was so good with the children. Entertaining their wild talk, letting Lyanna brush his hair while he fixed the batteries in one of her new electronic book toys. Aemon toddled here and there, picking up and dropping things to his heart's content, eventually settling down with Drogon, petting his head and mumbling "Kitty.”

She sat on the edge of the couch arm, hands folded in front of her, marveling at the sight. It was gorgeous. It was all she had wanted, once upon a time. She idly pet Ghost's head when he came up to her, accepting her scratches with slit-eyed doggy pleasure. Lyanna wandered to her, while Jon went to dislodge Drogon from the ceiling after Aemon decided to tug on his tail, chastising the toddler for doing so.

The little girl crawled onto the couch next to her and immediately rested her head in her lap. Dany lightly touched her hair, stroking gently, her daughter's eyes falling shut. "Muna," she mumbled.

"Yes?"

One of Lyanna's violet eyes popped open, locking onto hers. She smiled. "Daddy got you something."

"Oh he did?" Dany should have wondered about that. Yesterday she did not receive anything from him. It didn't occur to her to think of it. With everything else racing in her mind, Christmas presents were not at the forefront. She paused her stroking, casually asking, "What did he get me?"

"Dunno, you were weird." _Yes, I certainly was._ She opened her mouth to ask further, Lyanna continuing. "He hidded it. I saw it. In your room."

"Oh."

  
After a few moments, Lyanna climbed off the couch, going to ask Jon to help her with her Lego set. He met her gaze, still struggling with Aemon who wanted to pet Drogon some more, the cat now hidden under the couch. She smiled briefly and got up, going to the stairs. In their room, she stood near the armoire, scanning the area, wondering where he would hide such an item. Provided it was small, it could be anywhere.

She went to the nightstands, seeing nothing, just usual nightstand items. Her cheeks flushed at some— ah— adult items in her nightstand. She went to the dresser and opened up the top drawer, rummaging among their comingled socks and piles of underwear. In the back corner, her hand closed around a long, thin velvet box. She removed it slowly and held it gingerly in her hands.

  
It was wrapped with a silk green ribbon, a small tag on it She glanced at it, messy writing simply saying: "Dany."

The ribbon fell off easily, with one gentle tug, and the hinges on the jewelry box cracked, popping up to reveal a thin silver chain with a thin rectangular charm on it. Set in the charm, in tiny diamonds were the letters 'L' and 'A.' "Lyanna and Aemon," she whispered to herself, her finger brushing the delicate, intricate piece of jewelry. She knew jewelry. This had not been a cheap item. The crushed green velvet, the green silk ribbon, told her all she needed to know, before even reading the silver embroidering in the green silk lining on the inner top lid. _Tyrell and Co._

Margaery's family company, purveyors of fine silver and jewelry for decades.

"Do you like it?"

She whipped her head to the voice, Jon standing nervously in the doorway. Her smile broke wide on her face, nodding quickly. "Yes," she breathed, holding the box while he walked over, his right fist squeezing nervously at his side. She handed the box to him and he took it, removing the necklace. "Why...why didn't you give it to me yesterday?" she asked.

"You were acting so strangely; I did not want to worry you further. Frighten you."

Her eyes fluttered shut, his warm touch brushing along her neck, guiding her hair out of the way so he could drape the necklace around her neck. It took a couple of tries and a mumbled curse to get the thing to clasp, and she giggled at his effort. She did not think she had ever had such a gorgeous piece of meaningful jewelry before.

There were jewels and finery in her safe at her penthouse, even more in a vault she kept in a local bank for special occasions, but not one of them had the care and meaning behind them like this. Tears stung her eyes. She did not truly understand what that meant until now. "Jon," she whispered, eyes fluttering around the tears, his lips brushing the clasp and around her neck. His arms snaked around her waist, wrapping tight, engulfing her in warmth and comfort.

He kissed behind her ear, mumbling. "I love you Daenerys."

She clenched her eyes shut, squeezing his hands around her middle, and nodded fast, turning her face to his, and met his kiss with one of her own, soft, loving. She had never remembered this feeling, she wanted more of it. It consumed her wholly and completely.

They sank into the kiss, deepening it, urgently grasping for the other. She gripped the front of his sweater, as his hands cupped her bottom, grinding her up to him. She gasped, pulling back long enough to take a breath before kissing him again, mindless. He edged her towards the bed, her knees hitting back against the edge, and prepared to pull him down atop her, when suddenly the door burst open, Lyanna barging in, shouting about Aemon taking her doll.

Jon tore from her, breathing heavily, while she groaned, body tingling with continued need for him. "Seriously?" she murmured, ignoring Lyanna's shouts and Aemon's cries from somewhere in the rest of the house.

"Story of our life," Jon teased, kissed her hard, one final time, before he clapped his hands and grabbed Lyanna, hauling her up into his arms, promising to deal with it but she had to learn to knock.

_Or we need to lock the door_ , Dany thought, touching her fingertips to her swollen lips, her other going to brush against the beautiful necklace. Her eyes closed, breathing regulating and heartrate slowing. It was probably for the best. She wasn’t sure...how long was this going to last?

Because she did not want to find out just how much she needed someone who ultimately would not be there. If this was just a dream, just a hallucination.

She couldn't get hurt again.

* * *

"One day we'll buy clothes that fit these kids the first time," Jon mumbled, rummaging in a shopping bag and unearthing the receipt he'd been looking for. He crowed, triumphant, and looked around the mall, gesturing towards one wing while Dany was focused on another end.

The mall near Winterfell was a combination of upscale, high-end luxury focused on small shops in an outdoor portion and connected via a square to the entrance to the indoor area, where there was a food court and other, "normal" stores. It was these stores where Jon had his attention, since they needed to return some items and exchange others, apparently a usual activity after Christmas.

It was one she had never done, so when Jon basically announced it that morning, she agreed to come, because it would be something different than what she'd done all day before, which was clean the house, entertain the kids, and try to understand what was going on in her life now. Sometimes that even involved hiding in the office, pretending to work.

Even though Jon had tried, she'd rebuffed his advances the night after he'd given her the necklace and the previous one, desperately trying not to be close to him. This was not her world, she tried to tell herself, and it was dangerous to think it really was.

He was good natured about it, hugging her close and saying he loved her, and he wanted her to feel better. The night before he'd barely tried, mostly because he was too tired. He'd been grading projects, apparently, and was sick of reading kids' writings about the Conquering of Westeros. Didn't help that Lyanna accidentally dropped her new doll in the snow and mud and was inconsolable all evening long.

She had to get out of the house, so he dropped the kids off with Arya and Gendry, and they headed to the mall. She wanted to ask him about Robb or Sansa or the other siblings, since they hadn't bothered to come up in conversation, but decided against it for now.

"Why don't you go return those?" she suggested, her attention still fixed on the luxury stores. Her fingers itched to see if the Ellaria Sand collections in this world were the same as they were in the other. She glanced at him, smiling quickly. "I just want to see something."

  
He shrugged. "Alright. I'll return these ones and then we can hit the shoe store on the way out. I swear Aemon just needs to go barefoot for a good two years." He kissed her quickly. "be right back."

"Hmm."

She meandered to the exit, stepping out into the sharp cold, and spotted the door to the Ellaria Sand boutique, hurrying over. She brushed her hand over her braids, wishing she had thought a little more about her appearance that morning. The camel-colored sweater, skinny jeans, and brown boots were the nicest items she'd located in her closet.

  
Apparently, this Dany did not take too much to fashion; the suits were serviceable, but definitely not fashionable. Beyond that it was a rotation of baggy sweaters or button downs and jeans. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and caught her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh gods," she exclaimed, pressing a finger to the bag under her left eye. She cringed. No amount of concealer would make that go away. She rummaged in her tote— a leather piece that had no brand name on it— removing a compact. She did what she could, but it did not conceal her exhaustion.

She opened the door and stepped inside the boutique, assaulted with the fine leather goods smell, the crisp floral perfumes from the counter, and the stench of _money._ It reminded her of her old life. When she did not care about anything but what she could just get. It was nice.

"May I help you?" a saleswoman asked, rather dismissive, not even looking at her.

"Browsing," Dany commented.

The woman took another look at her and frowned, edging closer. She began to follow her, at a distance, as Dany gazed at the beautiful bags on shelves, the small leather goods, and the beautiful jewelry in a case on the other side of the small room. She glanced out the corner of her eye; the woman was casing her. She grit her teeth, shifting her bag. She wanted to say that she was _Daenerys Targaryen_ but remembered that didn't mean anything here.

She paused in front of a bag she had four of, in all colors, before. Her finger lightly touched it. She felt awkward, lifting it up to inspect. The door opened again; the woman distracted by the newcomer. "Hey," Jon said, bypassing the saleswoman with a simple smile.

The saleswoman was so bowled over by Jon— he looked very nice in his red Henley and black jeans tugged into his boots. His parka was open, anyone easily able to see his flat stomach and the definition of muscle the Henley clung to. He had a few shopping bags in his hands. "Hey," she greeted, turning to show him the bag. Her eyes were wide, and she grinned. "Is this not the most gorgeous thing you've seen?"

"Um, well, there's you," he teased.

She rolled her eyes, looking down at the bag. It was one of her favorite styles. Classic, elegant. She wiggled it in front of her, dropping the hint. "Maybe Momma deserves a treat, what do you say?"

Jon snorted, not even bothering to look at the discreet tag, tucked in a front pocket. "Aye, for one of the kids' entire semesters of university."

"Well I want it," she decided then and there. Why couldn't she get it? She deserved nice things after all.

His brow furrowed and he pointed to the tote on her shoulder. "What's wrong with the bag you have?"

"Oh this thing? It's old and worn and I just don't really care for it."

Jon shrugged, suddenly cold, his gray eyes shuttering. "It's your money." He didn't say anything and walked out, ignoring the saleswoman who tried to cut in front of him to see if he still needed anything.

His brusqueness startled her. It was obvious he disapproved, but he wasn't going to tell her one way or the other. She bit her lower lip, thumb running over the shiny silver clasp. It was her money and if she wanted to spend it how she wanted, well she could do that, couldn't she?

Except there were children who needed clothes and food and school stuff. She didn't think of the fact that she lived in a house. Didn't that mean mortgage or something? Her penthouse was bought and paid for. Grey handled things like her utility bills. She shifted on her feet and made the decision.

"Are you getting it?" the sales woman asked, suddenly at her side. She reached for it, simpering. "Because I can start boxing it up for you if you like. Would you care for refreshment?"

Dany shook her head quickly, quiet. "No, thank you." She set the bag back on the table, one last longing look, and hurried from the store.

An hour later they were driving home, Jon silent beside her. He'd barely spoken since they met back up in the courtyard, going out to the car after finishing with some of the exchanges. She propped her head on her hand, gazing sideways. He had his eyes fixed on the road, the radio off. Silence smothered her. She cleared her throat. "You mad at me?"

He took a deep breath, shaking his head, releasing it. "I'm not mad."

"You seem mad."

"I just..." he frowned. He chewed his bottom lip a moment and glanced sideways, fighting internally over something before he sighed again. "I just don't understand why you seem to want things that are bigger and better. You never cared about your clothes or your bags or stuff..."

He might as well have said _before_. Before she woke up three days ago screaming and running out of the house confused, unsure where she was. Before whatever he thought happened. A stroke or some kind of brain shift. She felt foolish.

She didn't say anything. The phone rang, Arya asking them to pick up something at the grocery store so she wouldn't have to run out and get it. She took the opportunity when they got back int he house to casually comment about his siblings. "Vis asked about your family," she murmured, lying through her teeth. She studied his expression, sitting in the parking lot while he quickly texted back Arya. "How...how the rest of them are."

He shrugged. "I guess Bran and Rickon are good." No comment on Sansa, which she supposed was what she needed to know. He rolled his eyes, cold. "Sansa ignored us again. Typical."

"I stopped at the rec center on my way home the other day."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I don't know, just...thinking about...about him." She ran her tongue over her teeth. It was clear Jon did not want to speak of his dead brother. She covered his hand; she wore gloves, he did not. It was cold, even though the thin fleece lining of her glove. She squeezed his fingers. He squeezed back. "Do you miss him?"

"Of course." He squeezed harder, whispering. "Every year it's hard. He's a big presence to fill." His voice grew softer, cooler. "And it's my fault."

Her head turned so fast; her neck cracked. "What?" she gasped.

"I mean...I called him. Said I had something huge to say. Needed to tell him in person, hurry up." He ducked his head, mumbling. "You know the rest...kind of ruined the engagement."

_Oh gods._ Give and take, she suspected. She didn't know the full story. She didn't care. She reached for him, hugging him around his shoulders, and whispering. "It wasn't your fault."

He did not seem to disagree, but also didn't agree. They said nothing of it after that, driving back to pick up the kids, and bring them home. After dinner and baths and settling them in their beds, she went into their room, where Jon was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead. She closed the door quietly, nervous.

They still hadn't finished their talk from the car. about the purse. She cleared her throat. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," he murmured turning. He rested his hand on the end of the footboard, forcing a smile. "I know it's winter break, but sometimes I can't wait to get back to dealing with teenagers."

"When do you go back again?"

"January 2."

"Oh."

He shifted, drawing his leg under him, watching her carefully remove her necklace, draping it gently in her jewelry box. "You know, you never cared about things before, which was why when you wanted that necklace, I made sure to get it for you."

Her fingers caught; the jewelry box snapping shut on them. "What?"

"The necklace." The perpetual confused look return to his face. Along with sadness, no doubt because she once again couldn't remember something she obviously should have. She went over to sit next to him, threading their fingers together. He smiled sadly. "I don't understand Dany. I bought it for you because I knew you wanted it, but you never would have asked. You saw it when we were in King's Landing, for that law conference you went to in September. In the window of Tyrell's. Said how lovely it would be to have something like that to pass on to Lyanna, maybe even something with her and Aemon on it, to remember." He thumbed her ring, on her right index finger, the worn dragon with a pearl, that belonged to her mother. "And now you want some fancy purse."

Dany wanted to be sick. It didn't matter. The purse was nothing to her now. The necklace held meaning. Wonderful meaning and of course he bought it for her. Because he loved her. He whispered, still confused. "If you want, I can get you the purse. I can move some money around..."

"No," she interrupted, cupping his face with her palms. She pushed her forehead to his. "No, please. Don't worry about it. I love this necklace. I love the meaning and I love that you remembered. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm just...out of sorts. I'm sorry Jon."

He held her tight, stroking her hair, her face buried into his shoulder. "I just wish I knew what was going on."

_Me too._ Dany clutched him, unaware how much he'd become a lifeline for her these last three days. She closed her eyes tight, savoring him, breathing him in. She didn't want to clutch him as close as she was, because it was going to hurt so much harder.

But it didn't seem like she was leaving any time soon. She was here.

And it felt good, she admitted, nuzzling his neck, rocking slightly in his arms. It felt so fucking good.


	3. “You have to go now, right?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon reconnect, as Dany realizes what she wants...unfortunately the universe doesn’t always work the way we want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to go up December 15, but I actually have something else for that day so this is coming earlier than later. I also had my holiday plans ruined by COVID, a bad day at work, and I thought I’d cheer myself up and share this early. You all benefit from my shitty day, lol.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Muna can I look like you?"

Dany peered at Lyanna's reflection in the vanity mirror, both of them sitting before it; Lyanna on her small pink stool and Dany in the pink chair that normally sat by the bed. They were getting ready for bed, fresh out of Lyanna's bath. It was something that Dany had come to actually enjoy doing, now finishing up day four in her new existence as a wife and mother.

Even coming home after work— which she'd found she also easily adapted to, her heart in constant state of breaking and mending while working with her clients— exhausted and ready to just crash out, she found she _wanted_ to stay awake as long as possible to play with the kids, feed them, and get them to bed.

Jon joked how he should just become a full-time house husband, a kept man. She automatically responded, "You'd miss teaching too much." She had no idea where it came from, but he laughed, said that was true.

It was his turn— they apparently switched off every night— to get Aemon down to sleep. Her toddler son was a bundle of energy that night, but once he was out of his bath, he was _done_. She passed them in the hallway, her son draped over his shoulder, already drooling onto Jon's shoulder as his eyes attempted to remain open, a fruitless endeavor.

She brushed Lyanna's soft dark curls, each one bouncing back when the brush ran over it. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Like your hair."

"Silver?" Lyanna nodded. "Oh no _issa prumia_ , your hair is lovely. It looks just like Daddy's and just like your grandmother. Your hair is beautiful." She turned her face down, whispering, their little secret. "How am I doing?"

Her daughter giggled, clutching her doll. "Good. You are not weird anymore."

"Oh well that's something," she laughed, relieved. At least she was convincing Lya. She reached for an elastic band, keeping it taut around her fingers while she began to braid back Lya's wet hair for nighttime. The following morning, when she removed the braid, it would be even springier.

Lya continued to smile, eventually meeting her gaze in the mirror again. "Muna? You doing anything tonight?"

"Going to sleep, just like you."

"Oh cause' sometimes you and Daddy go do stuff."

Her cheeks turned pink, wondering what that meant. If it was code for something. "Um, what's that mean?"

"I dunno, I think like a party maybe?"

"Party?"

"Yeah, you guys get fancy and go to nice place I think."

It wasn't anyone's birthday that she knew of. Dany paused, racing through the possible reasons to get dressed up and go somewhere. It was December 29. "Maybe you think of New Year's," she suggested.

"Naw, before that. You go twice."

She blinked, frowning. "Like an anniversary?"

"I think maybe."

Dany finished up with her braid, got her into her bed, and Drogon decided to come spend the night in her bed, curling at her feet. She read a story, Lyanna already asleep by the time they finished. She kissed her daughter's soft damp hair, stroking her warm back for a few moments. She forced herself to her feet, bypassing Jon, who came in to kiss Lya goodnight. "I missed her, huh?" he murmured.

"Just by a minute." She patted his arm and escaped to the office. It took a little bit more rummaging, but she found it, in a file marked 'marriage certificate.' "That's clear," she mumbled, removing the file and flicking it open. She ran her finger over the legal speak and then to the bottom. "On this day 29 December."

It was her anniversary. Her and Jon. _Seven years of marriage._ "He didn't say anything," she whispered. He hadn't made one comment about it all day long. Her eyes dropped shut; it was because of her. Because of how odd she'd been, he didn't want to put more pressure on her. "Fuck."

Well she had to fix this. It wasn't fair. She checked her eyes to the laptop, punching a key on it, and noting the time when the screen popped up. She frowned. It wasn't too late. Maybe there was something they could do.

It took a phone call to Arya, a few minutes of pleading, and her sister-in-law agreed, with the provision of "You fucking owe me." To which Dany agreed wholeheartedly. A few more deductive assessments and some brief research while waiting for Arya to appear, and she had her plan.

She went upstairs, finding Jon still in his regular clothes, folding laundry. The look of him, tousled hair, sleepy eyes, glasses.... _folding laundry._ She licked her lips. It was very nice. She cleared her throat loudly, pointing to the sweater he was shaking out from the basket. "Put that on."

Jon glanced over at her, amused. "No I'm good thanks."

"Arya's coming over."

"What? Why?" He broke eye-contact, continuing to fold.

She went to stand at his side, stopping him from folding, hand over his. "Why didn't you say anything," she murmured, looking up at him. He smiled, sheepish, and she touched his cheek, quiet. "I know I...I've been so odd...but I have a plan."

He hesitated, mouth opening and closing briefly, a bit like a fish. He sighed. "Dany, you didn't say anything this morning and you've been so out of sorts, i didn't want to put any more pressure on you. It's just an anniversary."

"Seven years," she laughed. She stroked his face. "That's a long time Jon. To be married to someone." It was certainly longer than she'd been married to Drogo. That had lasted seven months exactly, ironically enough. She nodded to the basket. "Come on. Put your warm clothes on. We're celebrating."

"You know Dany most couples don't celebrate anniversaries by putting more clothes _on._ "

She giggled, girlish. "Well I'm not like most girls."

"You certainly aren't."

Dany went down to get Arya, who had come in, annoyed. Ghost danced around when she began putting on her snow pants and heavy boots, thinking he was going somewhere. "Not yet, silly boy," she apologized. "Maybe tomorrow."

They got into the car, Jon asking continuously what this was about, tugging a beanie over his hair. Nighttime in Winterfell was enough to freeze your ears off. Even he conceded to the cold, the car barely warming up, despite driving for a good thirty minutes out of town. She said nothing, allowing him to needle for questions, and diligently following the signs until she got where she wanted to go.

He frowned at the sign for the Wolfswood Regional Park. "Why did we come all the way up here? Dany, Wolfswood stretches all over Winterfell, we live in the Wolfswood."

"But not this part."

"What part?"

"Soon enough." She checked the time again. They were almost there. It became clear, Jon's sharp intake her first clue, when she turned off the main road and the Jeep rumbled through the trees, and eventually to a clearing. _Thank gods it is still here._

Both climbed out of the car and she opened the back hatch; Jon laughed, seeing the wood stacked up and the thick blankets and thermos. "Well, I see Arya helped."

"I needed her for a few things," she confessed. She removed the blankets and thermos, and he took out the wood. They used the headlights from the Jeep as guides, starting a fire and eventually turned them off, both knowing exactly what they were waiting on. She huddled next to him, wrapped up in the blanket and took a sniff of the thermos when she opened it, laughing. "Well, she did not even bother with the cocoa I asked."

"What'd she put in it?" Jon sniffed, eyes watering. He coughed. "Shit Arya, she put in the good stuff." He took a swig, shivering and handed it to her. At least it was warm, she thought, swigging the whiskey.

They both met each other's eyes, the longing for each other clear. He moved in to kiss her, at the same moment as she, when the sky lit up, blanketing them in a bright, wavering display of electric green, blue, and purple. She turned to peer up, mouth falling, never used to it, no matter the times she'd seen them, in her time up North.

They were magical, the Northern Lights, shimmering and dancing. It was like the fairies or the angels were putting on a show, colors alternating across the sky, never repeating. Jon held her close, cuddling, his breath hot on her face. "You remembered our first date."

"Of course," she replied, her heart yearning for him. She slid her gloved hand along his neck, cupping his face closer. Tears would freeze to her face, but she didn't care. She laughed, knowing that no matter what happened to her, in any universe, she would remember their first date. It pained her to think of, in the other world, so she tried not to, but each time someone mentioned them, or she saw them on TV or in a photo, she remembered.

Her voice cracked, throat constricting in memory. "You took a scared, lonely girl from Essos, who didn't even know what snow looked like and brought me right here, to this very spot, and told me to look up. I was so cold, I thought for sure you had taken me here to murder me or something and when I did...I'd never seen anything as beautiful as them."

"Me either," he breathed. He took off his gloves and his hands, warm and comforting, drew her face towards his.

She chuckled. "You've seen them before though."

"I meant you, watching the lights." His eyes widened; they reflected the colors back to her, the gray a mirror for the firelight, the magnetic lights above, and even her own violet stare. "I had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful than you looking at them. I knew right there I was going to marry you."

If he truly felt that, in either world, her heart broke further for what had happened between them. They allowed something as silly, as trivial and meaningless as careers and aspirations to separate them. They didn’t work on it. They gave up at the first sign of problems. She leaned in, pressing her nose to his, her forehead, and realizing that her tears were dropping to his cheeks. She knocked off his hat, stroking her fingers through his hair, needing to be as close to him as she could be.

She wanted to go back, to tell herself that it wasn’t worth it. That stupid internship meant nothing. It was just something she convinced herself would be the end all and be all. Jon was more important. Their future together was more important.

And she did not feel any longer like she was missing a damn thing in that other life.

"I love you," she whispered.

It was the first time she had said it, since she awoke in the bed that Christmas morning. It didn’t feel right, she didn’t want to say something she wasn’t sure she felt. Even if this Dany thought it, said it on a routine basis, she was a different Dany, and she didn’t want to get close. It had only been a few days, her heart opening on its own, against her will and everything she tried to put in place to stop it. Ending the kisses when they got too intense, just smiling when he said the words to her…even the children, she could no longer help it. She loved them. So much. They were hers.

There was no such thing as “That Dany” and “This Dany.”

Because it was just _Dany._

And Dany loved Jon.

Her heart was gone, it belonged to him, and there was no coming back from it, or giving it up. She scratched her fingers through his beard, her breath coming in short, visible puffs, and face cold, stinging from the cold as she leaned in as close as she could. “I love you,” she repeated, gasping. “I have for a thousand years and more.”

Tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving in a sob, trying as hard as she could to get as close as she could to him, through the layers of their wool clothes and thick parkas. She needed to feel him. To remind herself it was real and not a fantasy. This was the love of her life, her _Jon_. She let him go too easy and he didn’t fight for her the way she wanted him to. They both failed.

She lost him. She had him again.

She wasn’t going to let him go this time.

“You were kind to me when no one else was,” she breathed, head against his, eyes fluttering closed again. He traced her face, tucking stray hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw and stroking down her throat, and back up again. She licked her lips, continuing, the memories locked away for ten years spilling forth. “You brought me here to show me another world, you showed me kindness and love and…and that there are other things greater than just us, you know?” There were the Northern Lights and there was love, there was their family.

He laughed, pushing his hands through her hair, holding her head against his. “What brought this on?” he whispered, stroking her face with his knuckles, soothing away her tears.

“Nothing, just…” She hiccupped. “I remembered something long forgotten, is all.”

And she kissed him, over and over again, not unlike their first date, where he’d awkwardly slid close to her, as if waiting for her to make the first move. She ultimately did, gently kissing him good night.

Now, they were older, and while he didn’t know it, she had learned what it was like to lose him. She kissed him desperately, unable to stop.

They spent a little longer, reminiscing, and then returned home, finding Arya asleep on the couch. Instead of waking her, she led him upstairs by the hand, turning backwards the stumble into their bedroom, the moonlight slicing in through the open windows, setting everything aglow. She moaned softly as Jon kissed away from her mouth, down her neck and to her chest, his fingers tearing at her sweater, eventually lifting and breaking their kiss long enough to throw it aside.

Gliding hands over each other, they exposed skin bit by bit, dropping clothing along the floor, stumbling giggling to their bed. She fell backwards, cradling him against her, framing his face with her hands, and studying his expression. His eyes were soft, pupils blown out against a thin gray sliver of iris. She lifted and offered her arms up, allowing him to easily remove her bra.

Breasts pillowed against his chest, she wrapped her legs up around his hips, sliding against his body, his bare chest heated, but feeling cool against her hot skin. She could not stop touching him, tracing her fingertips over his arms, the muscles rippling and flexing on his chest and back as he moved over her, tugging at her jeans and slowly undressing her, while she took the time to help him from his clothes.

They were in a rush, because it had been so long, but there was a comfortable, unhurried element too. They knew each other’s bodies intimately, each scar and ridge and dip and dent. She skimmed her fingertips along his belly, which flexed inwardly, hissing as she finally tugged at his belt buckle, their mouths crashing together again. He flipped so she was under him again, rising over her as he nestled against her, and began to rain kisses over her chest and down across her belly.

He paused, her fingers clutching in his curls, hips rocking up to him. She gazed down at him, wonderous, tracing her thumb along his cheek as he kissed the soft swell of her lower abdomen, where she’d grown and birthed two children, his tongue gliding over the little white lines, savoring her body’s changes. It felt so good, she thought, moaning and pushing up against him.

They took their time; teasing touches and warm kisses. When he rose up and over her, easily slipping into her body, it was coming home for them both. She lifted her leg higher to allow him in deeper, his arm wrapped around her thigh, as their bellies rubbed together, and breaths mingled, foreheads touching. She had an arm around his neck, the other holding tight to his bicep. He stilled in her. He filled her entirely. There was something so intimate, she thought, meeting his gaze, of how his body matched perfectly against hers.

It was what happened between lovers who knew each other so well, she thought sadly, something she did not have. Had not had since him. “I love you,” she breathed, breath hitching, fighting the urge to force him to move inside of her, seeking pleasure, with the need to keep him still, becoming one.

“I love you too,” he replied. He groaned as she arched up, and rose above her again, whispering. “I love you so much Dany.”

“Never let me go,” she begged, tears leaking out again. She sniffed, desperate. “Never let me go Jon, please. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.” _I do not ever want to leave._ She sobbed, pleasure overtaking her as he began to move with her, the two of them savoring the moment, not hurrying, not rushing, just being together. The way it should have been. The way it would always be.

And she knew, when she shattered around him, and he joined her, all the lights scattering behind her closed eyelids, and fingers clenched in his, that she needed this. _This_ was what she needed, and it was what was missing.

She finally found it.

She was never letting it go.

* * *

"Mummmm...."

"I'm sorry baby," Dany murmured, cuddling Aemon against her chest, his little hand pressed over her heart, and his warm cheek nuzzling into her shoulder. He sniffled, bunched up under his blanket, mumbling her name and occasionally coughing a little. She woke up that morning to him crying, and after checking his temperature, discovering that he had a low-grade fever with some sniffles.

He would be fine, Jon told her, when she fretted and wanted to talk to the doctor. She immediately comforted him, gave him a cool bath, and a baby aspirin to help his temperature. Poor thing just needed love, she thought, his warm baby weight against her chest drug-like. The intense protection over his little body overwhelmed her, practically bringing tears to her eyes.

He was her son, her flesh and blood, each time she gazed into his violet eyes, and when he was sick, so was she.

Jon entered the living room, startling her. "Oh my," she teased, gazing up at him with a dark gleam to her eyes. She licked her lips. "Professor Jon, what did I do to deserve this?"

"Very funny," he laughed. He had put on a black collared shirt and a black sweater vest and was tucking the shirttails into his dark jeans. Glasses perched on his nose, slightly smudged and askew. His hair was tugged into a bun. It was unfair how attractive he happened to be in such a bland outfit. It was a look she did not realize did things to her, until he wore it. Sweater vests were not sexy. Jon Snow made it so. He made a face. "I have to go in for a teacher conference thing."

"Seriously? It's New Year's Eve!"

"Aye, and apparently the principal thinks that's the best time to get all the teachers together for an hour or so to give us updates on the new testing procedures when we go back in a few days." He made another face, miming gagging. She giggled, lifting her foot to kick at his arse when he walked by. He avoided her with a quick side step, wagging his finger. "Naughty, naughty. There's no time for that."

She stuck her tongue out. "Spoil sport." He wrinkled his nose up and leaned down, pressing a long kiss to her lips, both of them breaking a moment or so for a breath before kissing again. She could die kissing him, she decided. Aemon pushed his fingers up between them, annoyed that his father was getting more attention from her than him. She broke away, nuzzling Aemon's hair. "It's alright baby, you're my number one man."

"I'm hurt," Jon feigned attack, pressing a hand to his heart. He grinned down at her, dropping a hand to brush over Aemon's curls, concerned. "How's he doing? I hate leaving you guys, even for a couple hours."

"He's alright, just cuddling with Muna. Muna makes everything better." She squeezed Aemon lightly, her son pushing closer to her, eyes fluttering closed. She lifted her gaze to Jon's, nodding for him to leave. "Go, you'll be late for whenever this thing is."

He swept down quickly for another kiss. "I'll be back. I have papers to grade, then we can party, party, party for New Year's Eve."

"Party?" Lyanna perked up from the corner, where she'd been quietly agonizing over a puzzle, Ghost seated beside her— helping, ostensibly— nosing pieces over to her for inspection. She giggled, jumping to her feet. "I want to party!"

A week ago, Dany would have looked forward to a New Year's Eve party. Usually one thrown by Margaery, in her fabulous penthouse or maybe even in one of the luxurious hotels overlooking the ball drop at the Dragonpit. Champagne flowing, a designer gown that cost more than the mortgage on this house for a year, and jewelry, she would have been in her element, subtly dropping her card for potential clients— the new year always brought with it new divorces.

It might as well have been centuries ago. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle on the couch with Jon behind her, holding her little boy and comforting him, watching Lyanna putter about with her puzzle or her doll or her toolset, which had become one of her favorites. Instead of that designer gown, she was wearing a pair of Jon's sweatpants which shrunk in the wash— she'd still not quite mastered laundry— with one of his t-shirts, a thick wool cardigan tossed on.

Her hair was tangled, she hadn't washed it in two days. She didn't care. All day yesterday she couldn't stop kissing Jon, holding him, and reminding herself that this was how it had been, how could she have possibly given it up?

Their anniversary evening was magical, a memory of times she'd long repressed, and she was _lucky_. She was so lucky to be here, to discover what she'd lost, and she never wanted to let it go.

She was _happy._

Lighter than air, she didn't need anything but these children and Jon, she was ecstatic at the prospect of going to work the day after tomorrow, to help children find their forever homes and families. She knew they had problems— apparently, they needed a new hot water tank, the roof had a slight leak into the attic, and Lyanna had to get new ice skates for hockey which weren't cheap.

They'd be fine.

She had no doubt.

"Muna?"

"Yes _issa prumia_?" She stroked Lyanna's curls, smiling lovingly at her daughter.

Lyanna grinned. "Can we put my bike together?"

Dany shot a look to the window, which was covered in snow, from a fresh storm the day before. She winced. "I'm afraid not today, I don't think we will be able to clear the driveway in time and Aemon isn't feeling well. Maybe when Daddy comes home?" She could get Jon to plow a space on the driveway and they could get her bike out for a few minutes.

"Okay," she agreed, climbing up beside them on the couch. Dany lifted the blanket over her knees and Lyanna moved up beside her, burrowing under her arm.

They sat quietly, a fire in the grate crackling away, the Christmas tree still twinkling, and Ghost now settled at their feet on the floor. Drogon was lurking somewhere; if Dany wasn't mistaken, he might have been under the tree, probably trying to find a way up it.

It was bloody perfect.

"I love you," Dany murmured, kissing Lyanna's head, and then Aemon's. "I love you both so much. Do you know that?"

Lyanna nodded and smiled wide; she showed off a missing tooth. "I love you too Muna. You did it."

"Did what?"

"You did it all, you know. You are doing fine. You know us now."

"Because I'm an alien?" she questioned, remembering.

Lyanna nodded again. "But not a bad alien, a good alien and I don't know if you are an alien anymore. You are Muna. My Muna."

_And you are my daughter, my sweet Lyanna Snow._ Dany pressed another kiss to her daughter's curls and cuddled her closer, closing her eyes and inhaling deep. It didn't take long, the drug of them both, napping against her, before she drifted off too, her lips brushing the top of Aemon's head. Even in her sleep, tears eked out of the corners of her eyes, and when she woke, a short while later, she watched them fall to the top of Aemon's downy head.

She pressed a hard kiss to his forehead, murmuring, begging. "I love you; I love you so much. Don't ever leave me." _This is all i want in my life. This is all I need._

The door opened, leading from the garage to the kitchen, Jon calling out. "I’m back!" He came around the corner, wincing as both children began to stir. "Sorry!" he stage whispered. He had his battered messenger bag on his shoulder; Dany recognized it from university. He unwound his scarf, kissing her temple. "They behave for you?"

"We napped," she murmured, watching him shake off his coat. She chuckled. "You took off your boots in the mudroom but your coat in here." Cold wafted off him, occasional snowflakes melting in the air.

He laughed and hung up his coat, coming back into the living room and opening up the bag. "I've got to get these papers graded." He settled in the chair and dragged out a red pen and a sheaf of them, sighing hard. "Remind me never to wait this long before school starts."

"I promise," she teased, although she knew she wouldn't. She watched him, loving the 'professor' look on him. She wiggled her brows. "You are so sexy."

He chewed the end of his pen, laughing. "Aye?"

"Oh aye."

After several moments, he stopped, cursing under his breath. "I forgot to get milk." He closed his eyes, shaking his head briefly. "I meant to stop at the store on my way home. Shit, it's getting late, I think they might be closing early too."

"I can go get it."

"No, you're so comfortable."

It didn't matter, Aemon was already waking, and Lyanna was climbing up, her cheeks warm and bright red. "Muna I wanna' go," she mumbled, stumbling off the couch. "I wanna' go to store."

That settled it then. She carried Aemon over to Jon, settling him down in his arms to continue his nap. He needed it, to fight off whatever little cold he picked up. She kissed Jon briefly, patting his face. "We'll be right back."

Lyanna chattered happily in the backseat, saying how they were going to the store, they were going to buy milk, and she would use it on her cereal in the morning. "And milk comes from cows," she declared. She pressed her face to the window, as best she could from her safety seat. "And cows go 'moooo'!"

Dany laughed, glancing back every so often to watch her imaginative daughter, how happy she was, content. It was all Dany had wanted to be in life. It was so...fulfilling to know that her daughter was as content as she was while being as young as she was. She loved that. She focused on the road, taking side streets and enjoying their brief sojourn from the house.

It was early evening now, the sun already beginning its descent beyond the treeline and mountains in the distance. By the time she pulled into the parking lot at the grocery store, it was almost entirely gone, leaving an orange glow on the pristine piles of snow. She helped Lyanna out and held her hand, despite Lyanna's protests. "I know you're a big girl," she said, walking carefully across the icy parking lot to the store. "But it's a parking lot and dangerous so hold Muna's hand."

"Can I get to pick?"

"Of course."

They went through the cereal aisle on the way to the dairy section, pausing to inspect some new cereals, one of which Lyanna didn't ask for directly, but her longing look at the pink marshmallows had Dany snatching it, smirking at Lyanna's bright grin. She tucked it under her arm, walking with her to the milk, collecting a container. They went back to the front, Dany hand-in-hand with Lyanna.

At the register, she put the items on the belt and handed Lyanna the money, her daughter eager to "pay" for the items herself. "Muna, look I paid," she preened.

"You certainly did."

Dany's head jerked up from her gaze at her daughter, the voice of the clerk familiar. Missandei smiled back at her from the register, gold earrings and nose ring glinting, her head cocking to the side. She lifted her fingers, waggling them in hello, the rings on her knuckles shining, drawing Dany's attention. She zeroed in on the two, nestled together, the wolf and the dragon, that Missandei had fiddled with in their previous two meetings. They were still together.

It gave her a sick sense of relief.

One she did not know if she'd have for long.

"Good evening Daenerys," Missandei chirped, handing Lyanna the bag with the milk and cereal. Her daughter wandered to the gumball and trinket machines, staring at each one.

With one eye on her daughter and the other on Missandei, Dany hissed. "What are you doing here?" She was worried; she didn't want Missandei here. She shook her head quickly. "Please...I...I'm just going home with her."

Sadness filled Missandei's warm golden eyes, her smooth face wrinkling in a sad smile. "I understand things are going well here."

"Yes, please," Dany begged; she didn't know why she was begging. She just knew she had too. This was hurting her already. She tried to move away, to walk off, but Missandei cut her off, slipping easily from the stool behind the counter and moving to stand before her. She whimpered. "No."

"It's time."

Tears filled instantly, threatening to spill. Her belly ached, her heart yearning. "No, please," Dany whispered, reaching for Missandei's hands, gripping her wrists. She whipped her head side to side. "No, I don't want to leave. This life...no, I can't." She licked her lips; Missandei said nothing, continued to give her a pitying smile. Her voice cracked. "What happens to them?" She couldn't lose them.

Missandei soothingly rubbed her forearms, softly speaking. "They've always existed, Daenerys. This is just a glimpse, remember and you were never going to be here forever."

"But I want to, please, just tell them, whoever....whoever sent you and did this, I'm good now," she begged, a mad woman. She could not lose them. She just found them. If she lost them now, she would be lost forever. She nodded furiously, the tears tracking easily now down her face, dripping to her scarf. On her chest, the necklace Jon got her burned to her skin. "Please Missandei, I don't want to leave. I need them. That's what you asked me, right? If I have everything I needed? I was wrong and I know that now. I _need_ them."

"And you have them," Missandei replied, sympathetic, but dismissive, already looking away, beyond Lyanna to the setting sun. She sighed, meeting her gaze again. "But this was a glimpse, Daenerys. A glimpse, in its definition, is fleeting. But a moment."

"I can't," she whimpered.

"You can, and you will. You were never going to be here forever."

"No!" It was too late; someone pushed into her, knocking her to Missandei, who squeezed her hands again and let go. Dany tried to grab for her, but the other woman moved out of the way.

And very deliberately, she removed one of the rings— the dragon— and slipped it to another finger, shaking her head. "It's out of my hands." Missandei slipped away, quiet, firm. "But remember Daenerys, they're not gone. They've always existed. It's a just a reminder. It's up to you to make the next steps."

_What did that mean!?_ Dany turned, Lyanna tugging on her arm. She grabbed hold of her and hoisted her up; far too big to be carried, but she felt nothing as she clutched her daughter, turning around to say something to Missandei, to try again, but the other woman had disappeared.

She pressed her face to Lyanna's hair, hurrying out of the store and to the car, only setting her down once they reached it. Lyanna, distressed, grabbed her arm. "Muna, Muna are you okay? Muna why you crying?"

Wiping her eyes, she shook her head, laughing and trying to blow it off, to comfort her little girl. "I'm not upset, I'm not, I'm so sorry."

"We going home?"

She nodded furiously, opening the door to help her up into her seat. "Yes, yes we're going home."

_But I'm not._

They drove back in silence; Lyanna must have sensed her distress. She wanted to go back, to find Jon and hold him and refuse to let go. If she kept holding him, he wouldn't leave, right? They could stay how they were, right? She blinked tears away; Lyanna was watching her carefully in the rearview mirror.

It was dark when they pulled into the garage. She got Lya out and was going to close the door, when Lya tugged on her hand, crooking her finger. Dany lowered her face down, frowning. "What is it?"

Lya studied her carefully. her studious, smart little girl. Her father's brains and her mother's sharpness. A lethal combo. "You have to go now, right?"

The tears returned. She nodded quickly, barely speaking. "I think so."

"It's alright Muna. I love you."

_How is this fair? This isn't fair. I should have to stay. I learned. I learned._ She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to the universe and more, how could they do this to her? She knew what she wanted and needed. Nothing else mattered but them, but her family.

She grabbed hold of Lya, crushing her against her chest, crying into her shoulder. "I love you so much baby," she murmured, breaking away and push her fingers over her dark curls, kissing her brow. "I love you darling." She kissed her again, breathing deep, imparting all the love she could. "I love you so very much."

To the little girl's credit, she did not get upset, she merely smiled vaguely and nodded. She kissed her nose and turned around, flouncing into the house holding the grocery bag, shouting for Jon that she bought the milk and new cereal.

Through the open door, Dany watched Jon laugh at something Lyanna told him, holding Aemon on his hip, and guide her to the kitchen. She noted his wide grin, his happiness, and that of their children. She wanted to burn it into her memory forever.

_They exist_ , that's what Missandei said.

"But how?" she whispered. The past was the past, if she looked back, she was lost. She couldn't dwell on the mistakes she'd made, the same ones Jon made too.

It was going to end, that evening. She slumped against the car and allowed herself a moment to cry, shoulders bending forward and her hair falling over her face, sobbing for the life she knew she was about to lose.

* * *

_This is it. This is the end._

She didn't know how it would happen, if she would just...pass out. Or go to sleep. Or suddenly open her eyes in another world. A world she no longer wanted or understood. In preparation, Dany made sure to savor every single moment, but she didn't prolong them. She didn't force anything to be different.

They still ate dinner together, she still played with the children, she pretended to work while Jon finished grading papers. Lyanna was the only one who sensed a change, smiling at her every so often and came over to her once and kissed her, saying she would miss her.

"But you're still my Muna."

Jon must have sensed something but said nothing. He let her sit in the back room, in one of the window seats, gazing at the snow and sitting in the dark while he handled the children and set them to bed. Ghost came to sit next to her, his great head on her knee, watching her dolefully. She scratched his head, smiling at him. "I'll find you," she promised him.

He quirked one of his eyes towards Drogon, who was cleaning his face, on the other side of her. She chuckled, nodding. "Yes, he comes too." Ghost huffed, but remained in place, accepting this would be his fate in whatever world. She kissed Drogon, told him she'd see him soon, and eventually got up.

Hugging one of Jon's hoodies tight around her, she wandered the dark house. A ghost in her own home, she touched the many pictures weighing heavily on the refrigerator door, smiling at the careful letters Lyanna spelled out. _TO MUNA LOVE LYA_. She stood in the arched entry to the living room, at the large Christmas tree, its lights still blazing. She cocked her head at the ornaments, the "My First Christmas" one with Aemon's pinched face in the photo frame and the "Our First Christmas" with her and Jon smiling, faces barely distinguishable under their winter hats and scarves, in front of Winterfell.

Ghost and Drogon followed her, little shadow companions, through her journey. Dany adjusted knickknacks on the shelves. She picked up blankets and toys still on the floor and put them in their rightful place. She ended up at the stairs, making sure to skip the bottom one, else she'd trip.

The floorboards creaked, comforting instead of startling in the quiet. She looked at each photo in turn on the wall leading up the staircase, all the photos of her and Jon and the children. It started when it was just them, a snapshot of them in university, giggling and fresh-faced, in front of their old dorm building. Then another in Meereen, on the beach, and one of them in Assh'ai.

"We had a life," she murmured, following their path. From young, idealistic and dreamy couple to young parents, her and Jon holding a newborn Lyanna, pure love shining out at their perfect daughter. Then to a small family, with Aemon.

And to the last one, a Christmas photo of them from that year, hanging at the top of the stairwell. The kids grinning at the camera, while Jon rested his head on hers, possessively wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Her grin so wide her eyes disappeared behind her cheeks.

Aemon's room was the first one she came across and she checked on him, adjusting him in his crib and removing his thumb from his mouth. He was clutching his ratty blanket and his eyelids fluttered, almost translucent, dark lashes on his pale cheeks. She stroked his silver curls and kissed his petal soft cheek. "I love you baby," she breathed, smiling down at him, calm, peaceful. "I'll see you soon."

From there she went to see Lyanna. Her smart, precocious, and kind little girl was bundled under her quilt, the nightlight rotating lazily, shadows flickering over her face as she slept. Dany sat in the chair beside her, watching her, for as long as she could bear it. "You look like your father," she murmured, touching her dark curls. She chuckled, the tears finally beginning. She wiped at them, before she could start sobbing, and make this harder than it already was.

She kissed Lyanna's head, her thumb brushing her daughter's pursed lips. "I cannot wait to meet you," she promised, vowing that they'd be together.

At the bookcase, she picked up the old snowglobe, shaking it and watching the little flakes fall in the water. She turned it over one more time, thumb running over the old writing. "King in the North," she chuckled. She would find him. It would happen. Just a little off schedule.

In the hallway she paused at their bedroom, the door cracked. Light sliced out from the bedside table, but she couldn't hear Jon moving around. She nudged it open, gazing in and to the bed, where he was lying on his back, head propped up on some pillows. She smiled. He had fallen asleep while reading, his book still open on his chest, glasses falling off his nose.

"He sleeps like Lya," she murmured, just now seeing it.

It would be better this way, with him asleep. She wasn’t sure what she'd do if he was awake. She would savor their memories, the love they shared, that she'd had to come to find again. It was there, it always was there, she just needed to discover it again.

She went over to the bed and picked up the book, setting it on the nightstand and removed his glasses. He stirred, barely, turning his face on the pillow and sighing, his lips parting slightly. He was relaxed in sleep, any lines on his handsome face smoothed out, no worries to be had. She cupped his jaw, stroking his beard, scratchy on her palm, before she lifted to brush his hair from his face, soft in contrast.

He murmured, still sleeping. "Dany..."

Dany flicked off the light and crawled into the bed, sliding up to notch her body into the groove of his, where they met perfectly. a lock and a key. Jon Snow was made for her. She covered his left hand with hers, studying their worn wedding rings. "Soon," she vowed. She nuzzled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, slow and steady.

Clasping his hand in hers, tight, she refused to close her eyes. If she did, it would be over. She kissed his hand and his heart and then his lips, before she buried her face to his neck, murmuring, again and again. "I love you; I love you; I love you."

_I'll find you. I'll find you. I'll find you._

Try as she might she could not keep her eyes open. She wasn't tired, but she couldn't. "No," she began to mumble, feeling something start to pull on her. She couldn't stop it, another force, dragging her away from this world and to another. "No, no, no..."


	4. “We could...get a cup of coffee?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany goes for what she wants and discovers Jon may have lived the same life as she did...and have an Angel of his own. It ends where it begins, at an airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait but nope too excited. This is NOT the ending of the movie but twists on it in a way I wanted to. The movie leaves things more open ended.
> 
> Enjoy!

"No, no, no....no.... _NO_!"

Dany screamed, lurching up in bed, fighting at something wrapped around her, tying her down. She cried and shouted, ripping at silk bindings, fumbling in a sea of pillows and blankets, eventually emerging, panting.

At the end of the king-sized bed, Drogon hissed at her, from where he'd been thrown as she awoke. He jumped away and ran off, leaving her alone. She spun in place, taking it in, sobbing at the overwhelming pain, the stab in her gut, realizing it was true.

Instead of the small bedroom at the top of the house, with its comfortable rafters and window seats, in the bed with the homemade quilt, she was in her penthouse, windows allowing in blinding sunlight and bright blue glow from the Blackwater. She _hated_ it. It was sterile and ugly and dark. There was no warmth.

She sank onto her heels, hearing a bell ringing. It was St. Baelor's, announcing after eight bells that it was eight in the morning. She climbed out of bed and grabbed her phone, staring at the lock screen. It was a picture of her new purse, still in the box. "Fucking seven hells," she cursed, wanting to delete it instantly.

It was all gone. All of them, gone.

Dany stood at the window, overlooking the city, and her fabulous view most people would kill for. She despised it now. She wanted the pine trees, the snow, and the children's playset to look upon. Not this...fakeness. She glanced at the phone again.

_25 December 2020._

"Christmas," she mumbled. She frowned, realizing. "Christmas? It's Christmas."

That was a week ago...right?

Or maybe it wasn't...maybe it was still Christmas. _Oh thank the Seven!_ She had time! She could still change things around! Dany turned on her heel, tripping on her own feet, as she was unfamiliar now with such wide space, everything separated by multiple arm lengths. Frantic, she ran to her closet, bypassing all the designer gowns, suits, perfectly folded and portioned out sweaters and jeans, and grappled for whatever she could get her hands on.

She managed to tug on a pair of skinny jeans, a battered pair of boots she didn't remember owning, and the first sweater she could grab. Hair a mess, braids frizzy, she fought them back into a loose tail at the base of her neck, while also running through the apartment that was far too big for one person and completely unnecessary.

"We could fit three of my house in here!" she shouted to Drogon, who stared, amused, from the kitchen island. She heard her phone buzzing, while she took her coat from the closet, and glanced at the screen, smirking. She answered. "Hello?"

"Ms. Targaryen, this is Jorah downstairs, your car has been waiting for some time, Mr. Selmy is concerned, as am I, I was going to come up and check on you. You had an appointment this morning?" Jorah sounded almost _too_ hopeful that he might have to come find her.

Appointment? Oh fuck! The meeting! "Um," she stuttered, trying to figure things out. She pressed her fingers to her forehead, before dropping them to her pocket.

Where they wrapped around a crumpled piece of paper.

Jorah continued to speak somewhere in the back of her mind. She very slowly removed the paper and unfolded it, her thumb running over the neat script Grey had spelled out for her on the personalized stationary she had him use for all her messages. It was so pretentious, so unnecessary, she idly thought, her focus zeroing in on the name, just above a phone number.

_Jon Snow_

_Jon called me, that's what prompted all this._ She licked her lips, laughing and closed her eyes tight. "They exist," she murmured. Missandei told her they were always there, they always existed, she was never going to lose them.

She laughed, not realizing she was still on the phone, Jorah apoplectic, needing her to speak to him or he would be coming up to check on her. She showed the message to Drogon, laughing hysterically. "They exist Drogon! I can find him! I have to find him!"

"Ms. Targaryen!"

"See you in a second," she blurted, disconnecting and refocusing, now hurrying to the front door.

The stained Ellaria Sand bag was on the foyer accent table, along with the metal dish where she had her keys. Dany did not know quite what she had planned, figuring she'd work it as it went. She snatched the bag and dumped everything onto the table, only taking her wallet.

Coat on, keys in hand, she blew a kiss to Drogon. "Wish me luck! I have to go fix the last ten years."

* * *

  
"Ms. Targaryen, please, wait!" Barristan was beside himself, running after her from the car and up into the building. He was worried, she'd basically body slammed him when she'd run from her apartment building, bypassing stunned Jorah, and demanded he hurry and blow through every single light and speed limit to get her to the office.

Dany could not be bothered with anyone's concern right now. She had things she needed to do. She punched the button on the lift, staring at the floors lighting up, begging it to hurry. "Come on, come on," she muttered, bouncing in place.

her phone continued to ring. Daario, Jorah, Grey, Margaery. Kind of a symphony of buzzing and ring tones accompanied by pings from the text messages. each one wanting to check on her, wonder what was going on, did she forget the meeting, etc.

After the longest time in the history of time, the doors opened on their floor, and she flew out, crashing through glass doors and bypassing the occasional P.A. who had been dragged in by the associates she ordered to the office on Christmas Day. She arrived in a heaving, sweaty, messy huff in the conference room, Margaery gaping, stunned, from her position on the other side of the table.

"Daenerys!" she exclaimed. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my gods! you look..."

"Fucking horrible, I know," Dany laughed, violet eyes dancing. She swallowed hard, collecting herself, and waved her hand in a sweeping motion to everyone. "Go home. Get out of here. Don't come back until after New Year's. This is the time for your families."

Not one person moved, or even breathed. Daario's eyebrows slammed together. He stood very slowly and walked to her, concerned. "Daenerys are you..."

"Fine." She laughed again, pointing to the door. "Get out. Or I'll fire all of you."

Yara exchanged a look with Tyene, and a few others nervously stood, unsure and waiting for someone to change their minds. They shot looks to Margaery and to Daario each. Dany waved her arms again, shouting. "Go! Don't look at them! I'm the founder of this firm and you all go home! Forget this shit, it's just people fighting over stupid things like money and power. Go home, enjoy Christmas, you all get extra bonuses!"

  
Now she pointed at Grey, laughing again. "Bonusses for everyone Grey! And an extra double for you."

Grey blinked. "Ma'am?"

"What in the seven hells happened to you?" Margaery hissed. Her green eyes fell on the Ellaria Sand bag. She squealed. "Seven hells! What did you do to that bag!"

"Daenerys were you mugged?" Daario demanded. He tried to take her arm, to guide her to a seat, but she shook him off.

Dany held her hands out to Margaery, grinning wide. "I finally figured it out Marge. I know what I want, and it certainly isn't to profit from the pain that comes with separating families and loved ones. It isn’t about bags or parties or the bottom line anymore."

To her credit, Margaery smirked, amused more than anything. "I've been trying to tell you that for a while," she murmured, a dark brow arching to her hairline. "So what happened?"

"I finally figured it out is all. I know what I want, and it isn't this." She repeated it again and blew kisses to her, across the room. "Go spend the day with your crazy grandmother and that new boy of yours, Robb his name was?"

"Yes, Robb Stark."

_Robb Stark!?_ Dany blinked. _No, it couldn't..._ "Robb Stark?" she echoed, whispering. Her heart jumped into her throat. "He's not...he's not dead?"

Margaery snorted. "I should hope not. He's currently tied to my bedpost. He was breathing when I left. I was on my way back there."

But how was he alive when he….ohhh, wait… "Things can change," she realized suddenly. They were variable. They could come and go, decisions that seemed simple and sudden had lasting effects. Like taking away the life she should have had, the husband and children. She looked at the slip of paper again, Jon's phone number burned in her memory. She fought back tears. "I can still change things."

She spun away from them all, needing to get out of there. To call Jon and find out what was happening. To get to wherever he lived. First flight to Winterfell, she decided, even if it cost her everything she owned, she did not care. She had to get to him.

Daario ran after her, shouting. She paused at the elevator, long enough to shake his touch away when he tried to hold her hand. "Daenerys, what has gotten into you? You're unwell. Let's call a doctor."

"No, I'm perfectly fine. The best I have felt in ten years."

"Well, let me come home with you."

She scowled, shaking him free again and walking into the open elevator, turning and pushing him away when he tried to join her. "No," she shouted. She laughed again. "I don't want you Daario! I want Jon!"

The last thing she heard from Daario was him yelling: "Who the fuck is Jon!?"

On the way out of the building, Dany spied a bin for donations. She grabbed her keys and wallet from the Ellaria Sand bag, and dumped it in the box, rushing out to Barristan, who was waiting at the car. As she ran to him, she knocked into a woman, who seemed to just appear out of thin air.

A woman with dreadlocks and gold jewelry and bright golden eyes.

"You!" she exclaimed.

Missandei winked, pressing a piece of paper into her hands. "I'm not really supposed to do this, but I'm making an exception for you both, just don’t…” She smirked, shrugging her shoulder nonchalantly. “Just don’t give up, even when it seems like it’s the only option left. Trust me." She blew her a kiss and spun away, gone before Dany had a chance to ask her what she meant by that.

_Don’t give up? I can’t possibly now. I’m in this._

The paper in her hands joined the one already crumpled there with his phone number. It was an address. In King's Landing. Not far from her apartment building.

"Oh!"

Barristan came around to help her to the car. "Ms. Targaryen?" he began.

Dany shoved the address at him. "Take me here. Now. Please. Thank you!"

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

The neighborhood where Jon lived was off the Street of Steel, in a stretch of four-story terrace homes, lined in a row, impeccably kept, with stone steps up to the front door and iron gates and fences between each one and over the bottom windows. Cars on the street were expensive, almost all of them black or silver or gray. It was a very wealthy area of King's Landing and she knew several actors lived on that very street.

It was hard to believe he had been here this entire time, just blocks away from her, potentially they had been at the same parties, maybe. Barristan pulled up to the house, which she was shocked to see, on Christmas Day, had two moving trucks in front of it, people coming and going.

She climbed out of the car, suddenly scared. He was there. Somewhere. Near her. "Ma'am?" Barristan asked, concerned. He furrowed his brow, his blue eyes narrowing. "Is everything alright? Can I help in any way?"

"No, thank you I have to do this myself," she murmured, patting his arm.

Dany looked down at her outfit and idly ran her hand over her hair. She only wanted to look better put together now because it was _Jon_ , for the first time in ten years. She stepped up to the gate and moved out of the way as two movers carried out a black leather couch. She blinked at it, doing a double take— it was her couch! The same one she had in her penthouse.

The men were grumbling. "Fucking moving on Christmas Day? Rich fuckers don't think of anyone but themselves," one guy cursed.

His partner replied, chuckling. "Yeah, well, he's paying us triple rate, besides it's that redheaded cunt in there that's the worst."

She frowned, worried, and hurried up the steps and into the foyer. The house was rather grand, with a chandelier and stark white walls, furniture half in and out of the house. It appeared as though someone was moving in at the same time someone else was moving _out_.

Dany stopped at the sight of a painting, bound in bubble wrap, the image wavy and blurred behind the protective wrap. It was a painting she'd seen before. "It's in the dining room," she breathed, touching it idly.

"Excuse me! Who are you?"

The harsh Northern accented voice drew her head up sharply. She made eye contact with a redheaded woman, who was shooting daggers at everyone, while a man with dark curly hair argued with her, a portfolio open in front of him. She thought for a moment it was Jon, her heart giving a leap in her throat, but it wasn't. This man was prettier, did not have Jon's scruffy handsomeness.

The woman who spoke was wearing a green sheath, diamond jewelry on her wrists and emerald earrings in her ears. She glared angrily at her, demanding again. "Who are you? One of his sluts?"

"Excuse me?" Dany exclaimed.

"I'm so sorry ma'am, Ygritte, seriously that is uncalled for!" the young man shouted, holding his phone up to his ear. He was frantic. "Colonel Snow, please call me back, your flight landed hours ago, I don’t know where you are but your ex-wife refuses to allow..."

The woman, Ygritte, shouted at two movers who were trying to take out a worn wooden armoire. "No! No! that's an antique and it is _mine_! It's in the divorce settlement!"

"No it isn't!" the young man shouted. “It’s a Stark heirloom!”

Dany had clearly walked into the wrong house. She glanced at the address again, double checking, and at the other note with Jon’s phone number. It had to be here, the painting was the same, as was the armoire the young man and the woman were currently fighting over. She had experience with fighting couples, this was no different. “Hey!” she barked, stepping clearly between them. She turned her back on the woman, who gave her such a cold look, Dany suspected she was used to getting her way whenever she used it, but Dany had years being on the receiving ends of those looks from plenty of women who didn’t get what they wanted in their settlements.

She turned to the young man, showing him the message with Jon’s number. “I’m looking for Jon Snow. He told me to call him.”

“So you came here?” the woman—Ygritte—smirked. She crossed her arms over her chest, her smile cruel, showing off a pair of rather large front teeth to go with her pug-like nose. “I knew it. You’re one of his new fucks, aren’t you? Well newsflash, he isn’t here! He up and left for Winterfell and _took everything he owed me_!”

“No he didn’t!” The man smiled apologetically. “Merry Christmas,” he snarked. He handed the paper back to her, nodding again and gesturing for her to follow him. “I’m Satin Flowers, I’m Colonel Snow’s personal assistant. He wasn’t sure if you were going to return his call, he apologizes for calling on a holiday evening, but given the move would be occurring today and tomorrow, wanted to make sure you had an opportunity to pick up your things should you want them.”

_Things? Move? Assistant?_ It all confused Dany even more. She rubbed her temple, ignoring the beginning headache there. “Um, excuse me?” she asked, following the man into the spacious, modern kitchen.

Satin picked up a box from the counter and set it on the table. It had writing on the top, neatly spelling out ‘Daenerys T.—Assorted.’ “Some things the Lord Commander found that he thought you might want as he was preparing for his move.” He flicked through his phone, barely acknowledging her as he spoke. “He’s sorry he missed you, but he needed to be up at Winterfell.” He met her gaze, mouthing obviously as Ygritte entered the room, seething. “Had to get away from that she-monster.”

“Oh fuck you Satin.”

“Not on your life sweetheart,” Satin said. He let out an excited nervous giggle. “Oh gods! I’m so happy I can finally let you know just how much I bloody hate you now that this entire thing is done.”

Dany glanced at the box, her heart falling in her chest to the pit of her stomach. All he wanted was to give her things he found that belonged to her. He didn’t even want to wait around and possibly see her. She blinked back the sudden sting of tears, hurt filling the empty hole where their reunion should have been. It was all for nothing, she thought. She ignored Ygritte and Satin, who began to bicker, and picked up the lid of the box, setting it aside and parse through the items.

A couple hoodies, a photo album, some books…a few photos. She found an old camera that she hardly recognized. A few other trinkets, like a ceramic jewelry tray she remembered buying at a thrift store with him. And… “Oh,” she gasped, reaching by a couple t-shirts, seeing the item on its side, on the bottom of the box.

_The snowglobe._

It was dirty, a layer of dust caked on the glass globe. He bought it for her for Braavos...and she sent it back, in her anger and grief. And he kept it, all these years. She rubbed at it with her finger and shook, watching the flakes dust over Winterfell, like she’d done only hours ago, in Lyanna’s bedroom. She tilted it over, thumbing the words. “King in the North,” she murmured to herself, still smiling. It was real. It was all so real again.

Satin cleared his throat, speaking over Ygritte’s shouting about the settlement. “My apologies Ms. Targaryen, but the house is supposed to officially turn over legal custody to Mrs. Snow…”

“Ms. Wilde!” Ygritte shouted. She snorted. “I took back my name from that bastard three years ago.”

Idly, Dany remembered that name, something about someone, maybe Tyrion, complaining about an abominable client of his, a Ms. Wilde. She glanced at the woman, frowning. “Three years and you only got a settlement now? What kind of attorney did you have?”

“A shitty one, because it actually took five years, but that wasn’t because of my attorney, it was because of my bastard ex-husband,” Ygritte complained. She waved at the box. “Get rid of your shit and get out of my house before I call the police.”

Satin winced. “I am so sorry Ms. Targaryen we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“You’re Jon’s PA?” She wondered what he did to require a personal assistant. Satin nodded again and looked at his phone, sighing at something and typing furiously into an email. She frowned. “What…what’s Jon do?”

“Ah, Mr. Snow is involved in a variety of business ventures.”

Ygritte snorted. “Fuck that Satin. Tell her the truth.” She smirked at Dany. “He’s a fucking spy.”

Satin flushed. “Ygritte!” He politely smiled again. “Colonel Snow, former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, is involved in a variety of business ventures and foreign engagements on behalf of the Westerosi Bureau of Intelligence. He’s currently Director of Operations.”

_My gods._ Dany’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “He’s one of the chief spies in Westeros?” _No wonder he was able to find my private line._ She shook her head, murmuring, rubbing her temple again. It was all wrong. “No, no he should be a teacher.”

“I’m sorry?”

It seemed Satin thought she had said something to him. She shook her head again, backing away and took up the box. “Forget it,” she whispered, her heart broken for the hundredth time that day…week…she was so confused. She didn’t understand it. She was supposed to find him here. She had no idea what she would say to him, of course, but she was supposed to find him, and they could…start over again.

This was the sign the universe gave her. It put them back in each other’s path once more and now…now she was supposed to fix it. Course correct it. She swallowed the dry path forming in her throat, forcing back the tears. Satin ducked his head a little, trying to meet her gaze. He smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry Colonel...Um, Jon...was not here, but I will let him know you picked up the items.” He glanced at his phone, mumbling, “If he ever bothers to pick up his phone…”

“Thank you,” she murmured, picking up the box.

Ygritte snorted; arms still tightly crossed. She stalked out of the kitchen in front of her, calling over her shoulder. “Don’t know why you’re upset at missing him. You’re not missing much. He’s a cold, aloof, lying bastard. Couldn’t be bothered to even come to my sister’s funeral last year, claimed he was too busy with work. And he even makes people show up on _Christmas_ to move his things.” She chuckled, tossing her russet hair over her shoulder. A sad look crossed her face, before she schooled her expression. “He’s cold, mean, and forgets everything but himself…” she ran her tongue over her teeth, scowling. “If he weren’t such a dick who loves his job more than anyone else, I’d still be married to him, but at least I’m getting the house.” She rolled her eyes. “He got that horrible dog.”

“Ghost?” Dany exclaimed. She scowled, furious on behalf of an animal she had not even really met and thinking no wonder Jon divorced this woman. “He’s not horrible.”

The woman spun on her high heel, narrowing her gaze on her again, suddenly more interested in her. “Tell me again, how is it you know my ex-husband?” she murmured, eyebrow arching. “Daenerys?”

“Daenerys Targaryen,” she spat.

Bright green eyes lit up. “Oh yes! I’ve been trying to get in to meet you for years! Your firm is very good.” She sidled up to her, suddenly very sweet, her smile softening. “You know, I’d love to sit down with you after the holidays, perhaps to go over my settlement. It’s been five years in the making and you know, I just don’t think Tyrion did what he could for me.” She looked around the spacious house, hands outstretched. “I mean, this place is nice, but Jon got the brand new Land Rover and the home in the North, plus the stock options and…”

Whatever else Jon got in the five-year long divorce—which Dany knew usually meant one side couldn’t really let go and something told her it wasn’t Jon—she didn’t stay around to find out. She turned away from Ygritte, not interested, and walked out of the house, down the steps and to the car, where Barristan was waiting. He stood quickly from leaning against the car and took the box from her. He said nothing, because he knew her facial expressions and moods after all his years of employ with her, and she was grateful for the silence.

She moved to get into the backseat when someone called her name—Satin, it seemed, running down the steps with her. “Ms. Targaryen!” he called, waving his hand. “So sorry, but you forgot this!”

The snowglobe. She’d set it down on the table and forgotten it. “Oh, thank you so much.” She took it from him and lightly touched it again. Tears dripped down her face, let loose now that she did not have to face anyone else. She brushed them aside and took a deep breath, smile wavering. “Thank you…um, Satin. I appreciate it.”

“Yes of course, um…if I may say…” Satin smiled sheepishly. He was very pretty, his blue eyes sparkling. “Um, Jon has been my employer for some time and well, Ms. Wilde is certainly not his favorite person or mine. That box has been in his room for a long time, he never got rid of it, so when he asked for your number and then suddenly left town, well…” He shrugged. “It’s not my place…”

“Something tells me that you don’t really care what is and is not your place,” Dany murmured, already seeing the same drive and tenacity within Satin Flowers that she saw in Grey. Grey was just far more discreet about it. She chuckled, her heart thudding faster, trying not to let it go too fast. Her hopes had already been dashed that day; her heart already broken. She could not afford to have it happen again. She patted his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Flowers.”

Satin shrugged. “All I know is that Ygritte hated that box, the second he told her it was a former girlfriend’s, but he never got rid of it. Also, he would have divorced her in ten seconds. The marriage was a bit of a sham and he knew it. The divorce lasted five years because she kept suing over and over again. Her attorney was horrible.”

“Curious who was her attorney?” Even though Ygritte had said Tyrion, she wanted confirmation.

“Tyrion Lannister.”

“Well that explains it. He’s awful, all talk.” She chuckled, pushing her fingers through her hair, exhausted. She wanted to go home. This had been...unwelcome and unplanned. She patted his arm again. “Thank you.”

Satin smiled again, calling to her when she slipped into the backseat. “Just so you know...they all say how ruthless and mean he is, but I think it’s just ambition and...loneliness.” Dany frowned. She couldn’t see Jon as...ruthless. Satin shrugged. “I don’t think he called you to represent him because of conflict of interest, even though a lot of people suggested. He went with his brother, Robb. Robb doesn’t even do divorce cases.”

Margaery’s Robb. It was all so close. They had so many opportunities and kept missing each other. Dany nodded again. “Thank you,” she whispered. Satin closed the door and patted the roof, signaling to Barristan to drive off. She fell into her seat, holding the snowglobe loose in her fingers, the flakes floating aimlessly in the water, never quite landing on the castle before they moved off again. She shook it, over and over, watching transfixed.

How could this all be happening?

It hurt worse, knowing they could have met so many different times, just for now…to miss each other yet again. “For a thousand years,” she whispered, gazing out the window, frowning. She heard Jon’s words, laughing back at her. _We’d be pretty old._

They would be pretty old. They’d be old together. That’s how it was supposed to be.

They were supposed to have their house, with Lyanna and Aemon, Ghost and Drogon, and she would get it. Somehow.

She sat up suddenly, flashing to Missandei, outside the building. “Just don’t give up, even when it seems like the only option left…” she repeated. _Missandei knew._ She surged forwards, banging on the glass between the backseat and Barristan, shouting through when he opened it. “Barristan! Quick, take me home now, I have somewhere to go!”

“Of course.”

Falling back into the seat, Dany dragged up her phone, furiously checking the flight schedules. “Fuck, Winterfell you’re so far away,” she mumbled, hurriedly booking herself the soonest flight, which was stupidly in several hours. She would just have to wait, but she’d get there.

After she got the ticket confirmation, she brought up Searcheros, laughing as it seemed like she was always trying to find out something about her life, whether she knew it or not, and found Jon’s profile on the government website, his stern, unsmiling face on the page a contrast to jovial teacher. Instead of his silly sweater vest and his messy bun and glasses, he was ramrod straight in all photos, in official black military dress or designer suits, black hair slicked back, the curls tamed into nothing, and in some photos not there at all, his hair cropped short.

It wasn’t her Jon.

Jon Snow, the nephew of recently deceased Ned Stark. Brother of Robb Stark, the chief counsel for Stark Industries. Previously married to Northern clan royalty Ygritte Wilde, who he met at a government gala years ago. Acrimonious divorce and rumored to have just paid her off to go away. The only photo she could find that made her think of _her_ Jon, was one of him and Ghost, at a Stark Industries event, in the snow, a faint smile pulling on his lips.

Satin was right, everything said he was ruthless, unfeeling, and cold. The White Wolf. Who chewed his enemies up alive and had no heart. She knew that was a lie.

_It's because he’s as unhappy as me._

Jorah left her alone, thank the gods, when they arrived back at the apartment. She trudged upstairs, into her apartment, and set the box on the counter, Drogon poking his nose in to inspect the objects. Dany shook off her coat and went to pack, nervously awaiting the time to go to the airport. She stared at the phone number, debating calling him. Except he didn’t want to see her. She didn’t want to meet him on the phone.

Dany focused her attention on the memories she had, hugging a pillow and watching the snow fall in her globe. “Lyanna, Aemon,” she murmured, repeating her children’s names. Their qualities and their personalities. Memorizing their faces in her mind’s eye.

About an hour before she planned to go to the airport she put on her coat, intending to go out and refocus, get some fresh air, and calm her frayed nerves. She left the apartment building, briefly wondering if Jorah slept, and meandered down the street to an overlook of the Blackwater.

She reached into her pocket and removed her phone, contemplated calling him. It shouldn’t be over the phone. She was going to set it back into her pocket when she remembered something else. Instead she scrolled through her contacts and hit the name. It rang a couple times, going to message.

After a second she spoke, voice cracking. “Hi Vis, it’s un Dany...i know this is weird but I just wanted to talk to you. Um do you remember when we were kids and would play dragons together? I don’t know why I thought of that. Maybe it’s the holidays or something. I hope you are having a good one. Call me. We should…”. She smiled briefly, whispering, “talk.”

“Um, bye.” Maybe he wouldn’t call her back. Maybe they’d never have that relationship that she had in the other dream. She could try.

Lifting her face, she imagined she was elsewhere. North. She crossed her arms tight over her chest, wishing she could see the stars, wishing she could see the lights.

“Soon,” she whispered, vowing it. Up somewhere in the sky, hidden behind the light pollution and the clouds, her children were waiting. _Soon._

* * *

  
“Thanks Barristan.”

Dany stood outside of the airport, looking up at the Departures signs, the one she stood in front of oddly mirroring a time in another airport, looking at the ‘CrownAir’ sign, and knowing that somewhere on the other side of the glass doors and security checkpoints and gates, she’d get on a plane that would take her to Jon.

Ten years ago she took a plane away from him. “Irony,” she murmured. Or maybe it was just coincidence.

“Be safe Ms. Targaryen, call when you come back,” he said, handing her the bag she’d hastily packed, not even thinking much beyond getting on the plane. Even a few last-minute wild texts to Grey asking about chartering a plane went nowhere. It was better, it gave her time to focus, and think about what to say when she saw him again.

She rose on her toes and gave him a hug. “Go home Baristan, enjoy what’s left of your Christmas. I’m sorry I’ve kept you.”

He tweaked her nose, like he did when she was younger. Hse wrinkled it and chuckled. “Be safe Daenerys. I’m sure whatever your plan is, it will work out.”

“I hope so,” she murmured. She waved at him, driving away from the curb, and turned, just to bump right into a runaway luggage trolley from a huge family beside her, sending her bag flying and busting open. She screamed, the snowglobe falling out and rolling away, threatening to fall off the curb into oncoming traffic. “No!”

An older man swept over and grabbed the globe before it fell, rising easily and handing it to her gently, a kind smile on his craggy face, blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Here you are lass,” he said, chuckling when she snatched it, clutching it to her chest. “Very important item, is it not?”

“Yes,” she gasped. She laughed. “You have no idea.”

“Oh I think I do.” The man winked at her and tipped the brim of his hat to her. “Merry Christmas Daenerys.” He stepped away, whistling to himself, hands going to his pockets, disappearing between two cabs.

It took a second, her adrenaline from almost losing the priceless memory fading, and Dany shot her gaze towards where the man disappeared. “How did he know my name?” she murmured, confused. She didn’t know him.

She turned, putting the globe back into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. When she lifted her face, she caught sight of a dog running out of a set of doors several stalls away. A big white dog, dragging his owner on the other end of a bright red leash. She frowned, peering at the dog through the frost, fog, and exhaust from the cars lined up dropping people off.

It couldn’t be.

“Ghost?” she whispered.

The dog couldn’t have heard her. It was something else. He turned his head and barked, his owner looking up.

_No._

Dany dropped her bag. “Jon.” No, it wasn't possible. Not after all this.

The man dropped the leash and shouted. “Dany!”

“Jon!” she screamed, taking off, forgetting everything.

Legs pumping under her, hair whipping back, and cold stinging her teary cheeks, Dany ran for him. She jumped around people and suitcases and didn’t even realize she met him until she was flying in the air, grasped tight in warm, strong arms, which lifted her clear from the ground, and her arms immediately locking around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Jon!”

“Dany!”

It was him. It smelled like him. Pine, cigarettes, cinnamon, and spice. His hair, just like she remembered, soft and curly under her fingers, his beard scratchy, and his lips...oh gods, his lips.

He kissed her before she could say anything, lips crushing to hers, and she gasped, mouth opening immediately under his, hands holding his face to hers. They kissed like madmen, who would never take another breath, hold another person in their arms again. Everything faded away around them, cold turned to warmth, and Dany vowed never to let go. She couldn’t if she tried, because Jon had such a hold on her she did not even get a glimpse of his eyes, which were clenched shut, his face stricken with the same fear and awe as her. She managed to break away, long enough to kiss him again. And again.

Until her feet hit the ground again, but he did not let her go and nor did she let him go either. She never would again. “Jon,” she breathed, grazing her knuckles over his cheek.

And she finally saw his eyes, bright gray, focused on hers. It was him. “Daenerys,” he murmured.

“How is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, shaking his head, sniffling and laughing. “I just...I was flying to Winterfell and I fell asleep on the plane and...and I don’t know what happened. I woke up and just...I wasn’t here you know?”

“I know, I know,” she laughed, crying and kissing him. She pushed her hands through his hair, staring at him, in awe. “I had the same thing…”

“There was this guy...He just...I don’t know. He was on the plane next to me and then he wasn’t and I know I’m sounding like I’m absolutely insane or drunk and I swear to the gods I’m not…” Jon stammered, waving his hands. “But he asked me these questions and I didn’t get it and then...then we’re in a house and we have children…”

“Aemon and Lyanna.”

He stared, mouth falling open. He nodded, hurriedly. “Aye...Ameon and Lyanna and...and you were a lawyer and I was a teacher and…”

“How is this possible?” It was the same as ehr. Except the JOn in her life, he knew he was in that life. There was no way he could have been someone who didn’t know. Who had to figure it out.

Jon laughed. “I don’t know.” His eyes were shining now. He cradled her jaw in his palm, breathing. “I don’t know what happened Daenerys, but I know I need you. I just...I don’t understand it, but..my life is nothing without you...and our children…”

“We’re so happy,” she sobbed. She wiped at his tears, not even thinking of hers, or the people staring at them, some even taking photos of the couple reuniting at the airport, with the big whtie dog jumping around them, whining happily. She thought of their children, their house… “We have a house in Winterfell with the creaky bottom step…”

“That needs a new roof.”

Whatever it was she saw, he saw the same. Or similar. Dany did not question it. She simply wrapped her arms around him again and breathed deep, at peace, calm. It was the life they were going to have. It would happen. She buried her face into his neck, swaying side-to-side, his arms snaked around her waist, and his chin on her shoulder.

They didn’t need to say anything else.

After a few more minutes, she broke away and stepped backwards, her hands falling to his. For the first time, she grasped them, and grinned. “I think we have...have some catching up to do.”

In her full view now, Jon was the same. He might have had a few more lines in the corners of his eyes, his clothing more expensive, and his hair slightly shorter, but he was her Jon. He nodded hard, laughing. “Aye. We could...get a cup of coffee?”

“Yes...a cup of coffee.” She nibbled her bottom lip, arching her brow. “We could go to my place. I think yours is occupied.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed, nodding again. “Aye. That’s fine.”

“Do you have a bag?”

“No, I left it at Winterfell...I turned around and got the first flight back.”

“I was getting the first flight out,” she laughed.

They found her things-- airport security lectured her about leaving them-- then went to stand in line for a cab. She looked down at their fingers, brushing by each other, and reached to grab his hand. He squeezed hard, gazing down at her. Ghost looked up, happily lolling his tongue, red eyes dancing.

It was how they should have left an airport, she thought, getting into a cab together, instead of separating. She clutched his hand, until a cab pulled up, and she watched, staring, as a woman climbed out, winked at her, and walked around to reach for the arm of an older man, who winked at Jon. It was the same one that had picked up her snowglobe.

Missandei gave her a finger wave-- the ring with the wolf and dragon was back on her finger-- along with a wide grin, and looped her arm in the older man’s, preparing to walk off. Jon frowned at them, calling. “Davos? What are you...donig here?”

The older man-- Davos-- peered over his shoulder, chuckling. “Just...fixing something is all lad.” He tipped his hat to them again and strode off, Missandei waving again and laughing at something he said, before they disappeared into the crowd.

Dany met Jon’s stunned gaze. “You know him?”

“That’s the guy who...I don’t know.” He laughed. “And you know her?”

She nodded, too stunned to laugh or even smile. “Yes...I...I don’t know what…” She huffed, as a cab pulled up to them, the driver shouting that he’d take them if they didn’t mind being charged extra for the dog.

Jon lifted her knuckles, kissing them. “It’s alright Dany. We’ve got all the time left to figure it out.”

Forever, she thought, smiling up at him. She licked her lips, whispering. “We could be together for a thousand years, you know.”

And automatically, he whispered back, “We’d be pretty old.”

They’d be pretty old, but they’d be together, and that’s what counted. Dany rose on her toes, pulling him down for a kiss, knowing soon they would be a family of three and then four, and then who knew how many more. It would all work out, it would be how it was always supposed to be. She fell back to her feet, whispering. “Merry Christmas Jon.”

He squeezed her hard. “Merry Christmas Dany.”

And they got in the cab and drove back to her apartment, had a cup of coffee, and to her delight, they set about rectifying what should have been ten years before, and if Dany was not mistaken, as they lay together in each other’s arms, even if it was in her big bed instead of their small, cozy one in Winterfell, come that same time the following year, they would be married in their home, and maybe working towards bringing Lyanna into the world.

It turned out she was wrong.

The following Christmas they didn’t need to worry about bringing Lyanna into the world, for she made her appearance almost nine months exactly from that fateful Christmas Day.


	5. epilogue: “do you have what you need Jon?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On New Year’s Eve, Jon reflects on his “visit” and a year later, someone checks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After getting asked a lot for Jon’s POV, I thought I’d provide an epilogue glimpsing his experience. Enjoy!

* * *

It continued to baffle him, a week later, even after hours and hours of rumination, recounting every second of the week he experienced and comparing it to hers, how any of this was possible. Jon did not consider himself fairly religious even if he did previously have an Old Gods wedding ceremony, but he wondered if the gods were involved.

  
Or if it was just some twist of fate.

The man who he met on the plane did not exist. Jon had called every contact— he had many— in his arsenal and even sat on every database he had access to— every single one in Westeros and maybe a few mode he shouldn’t in Essos— to identify Davos Seaworth but there was nary a trace of him or the woman calling herself Missandei.

They were angels, Dany said to him. They was the explanation. It terrified and vexed her too. They were no longer people who took much at face value, or anything, and there was always an angle. Except here.

Dany. Daenerys. The love of his life. The only woman who ever broke his heart. Mutual breaking, he knew he broke hers too. He dreamed a long time ago about their life together. Had no idea how different it ended up becoming, when he finally had the opportunity to experience it. It was warm, loving, and comfortable. It was all he ever wanted.

None of the fancy trappings, none of the deceit and the games and the drama he had to deal with. He struggled to understand. Dany worked nonprofit where was the fun in that? His long hair was not economical. Students didn’t listen to him like soldiers and spies did. Things were messy. They were variable. He didn’t like that at all.

It had been wonderful.

Took him some time— his daughter thought him an alien— but by the time he wanted to stay forever and was used to it all, it was time to go. Then he was awake on the plane and racing from the gate to another just to fly back. He needed to see if it was real. He called Dany to get her box and then...whatever that was happened. He had to see her.

The box.

Ygritte hated it. He knew he shouldn’t have told her what it was, but he was feeling mean that day. She had embarrassed him in front of some high-ranking generals with her crass attitude towards money and inability to play the game, arguing rudely over rights for Free Folk. He told her exactly what it was.

_“They are things that belong to Daenerys.”_

_Green eyes flashed, vicious, jealous. “Your ex-girlfriend!? What are they even doing here? Get them out!”_

And they’d fought. Again. They fought and broke up and then got back together. Neither liked being alone. He needed a wife for work events. She wanted money. It was a mutually beneficial relationship when it worked and sometimes, he did love her. Until they couldn’t keep it up. Ygritte wanted children and that had done it for him.

Because children were messy, and he couldn’t deal with that in his ordered life. So they divorced and he gave her the house and planned to move to the North for a bit while he waited on his promotion at work and then that box….he didn’t want to see her. Satin could handle it.

“You sure boss? Might do you some good. Closure.”

Maybe that was why he didn’t want to see her. Closure.

People told him to use her for his divorce. She was a dragon. She would get him everything and more and burn Ygritte alive in the process. Conflict of interest he always said even though he never expanded on it. Robb dealt with it. While at the courthouse for one of Ygritte’s ridiculous motions against the settlement, he met some attorney named Margaery. They were happy. Jon was thrilled his five-year long bitter divorce helped his cousin get laid. Sarcasm.

Then he saw her. He didn’t know what he planned when he landed. Since their break up everything had to be ordered. No surprises. No unknowns. This was a giant unknown. He would figure it out once he and Ghost touched down in Kings Landing again.

_Jon_.

The cry, her stunned beautiful face, like the last time he saw it, in that dream. Kissing her goodnight in their bed, refusing to answer her when she asked what was wrong. Him whispering he would be there. He would find her.

_“I’m right here Jon. I’m not going anywhere_.”

She didn’t go anywhere. Because he would find her. Even if she thought him mad, raving about their beautiful children and their old broken cottage and their boring wonderfully fulfilled life, he would find her.

He hadn’t known what to say when he learned she experienced the same thing. They kissed, laughed, cried and ended up at her penthouse. The similarities to his black and white, cold and unfeeling townhouse did not escape his notice. They were the same.

And then they’d kissed, barely a cup of coffee in to their reunion, and before he knew it, they were making love in her huge bed, as though no time at all had passed, not shy or worried or unfamiliar in the least. They had ten years to make up, ten years to account for, and ten years to discuss. It changed them. They weren’t the same, they needed to work through it.

“What are you thinking about?”

He drew away from one of her massive living room windows, arms wrapped around himself, smiling at Dany. She was leaning against the arched entrance from the hallway, in his hoodie and nothing else.

They did have ten years to make up for.

“Everything,” he murmured, reaching to draw her into his arms when she stepped towards him. He cuddled her, kissing the top of her head. Soft silver curls tumbled down her back and he nudged them away from her neck, pressing a kiss to her pulse there. He sighed. “Still trying to understand.”

“I don’t think we can.” She tilted her face up, scratching her nails through his beard and into his hair. She wrinkled her nose. “You need to grow this out.”

He laughed. “Regulations prohibit it.”

She shrugged. They hadn’t talked about where they went next. It was New Year’s Eve. The sun was falling over the Blackwater and soon there’d be fireworks from the Dragonpit. The view from her apartment would be stunning, she could charge admission for people wanting front row seats.

The home he planned to purchase in Winterfell was a new construction now far from where his cousins lived. It was stone and exposed beams and modern. Lots of chrome and stainless steel. Arya convinced him of it as an investment opportunity. Like she would know. She was never in the country. Living like a nomad, one of his best operatives.

He needed to talk to her. She should call Gendry. One of his engineers he knew they had a fling once. They should try again. They’d be happy. They were meant to be. they were in his...Dream? Vision? Parallel universe? Robb was dead there. He didn’t understand some of these things.

They were variable. He didn’t like variables.

Except variables were how he was here with Dany again. Ten years later.

He tightened his grip around her, whispering: “I don’t know what happened to both of us, but I know I don’t...don’t want things to return how they were.”

“Me either,” she mumbled. She looked up, smile wavering. “Are you still going up to Winterfell?”

“I’m not sure….I needed to get away…” he gazed lovingly down at her. “I don’t really need to get away right now.”

“No you don’t.” She kissed him softly, taking his hands and leading him to the couch. She curled into his arms, stroking the curls at the tips of his ears, watching Ghost sitting in front of her gas fireplace, his red eyes fixed on her cat, who had not stopped blinking suspiciously at either of them in the past week.

He drew his thumb in idle circles around her bare knee. Satin had called nonstop, demanding some explanations, conveying complaints from Ygritte and Robb and Arya. He had a promotion coming through to General, a potential return to be Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. He was on track to become the Minister of Intelligence. Formerly known as Master or Mistress of Whispers. Especially since he’d played the game well enough to become allies with Stannis Baratheon who was on track to be next Prime Minister.

It didn’t matter. He wanted to leave it all. He hated it. It killed him each time he played another person against the other. Each time he was honorable to a fault but only to his own ends. He thought of his children.

He missed them. Missed sweet Lyanna, so like her mother and the mother he never knew. He missed his son, running nonstop and chattering away. They were the good in the world. Jon needed reminding of it. He remembered wanting to be that good. That was the plan. He and Dany together.

“Do you remember Lyanna’s laugh?”

“Of course,” she breathed. She smiled, her eyes crinkling up. “She laughed like you.”

And so he did, laugh, right then. He kept dragging his fingers from her knee to her thigh, toying with the end of the hoodie. She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. He frowned. “She thought I was an alien.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to be together because we think we have to.”

She pulled her face back, staring at him. It was the first time either one had said anything about a future. He didn’t know how else to say it. He chewed at his bottom lip, prepared to start explaining, but thankfully her shrewd mind understood. “Me either.” She touched her forehead against his, still stroking his hair. “I didn’t understand how...lonely I have been.”

“Me either.”

“You were married,” she mused.

Jon remembered a social article saying she was marrying a ranching billionaire from Vaes Dothrak. “So we’re you.”

“Longer than me then.” She snorted. “Seven months. That’s how long it took. I came to my senses.”

“Aye well, my divorce lasted longer than my marriage.”

“My practice is important to me but…” Her fingers brushed to her belly, her eyes filling with shining tears, making her violet eyes glitter. “I didn’t realize how important everything else was.”

He smiled softly, following her hand to her belly. There were marks there, ones he’d kissed and followed, and photos of her proudly sticking out her bump during her first pregnancy and others of Lyanna kissing and listening to Aemon while she was pregnant with him. She had been a little shy at first, self-conscious but he didn’t care. He loved her. Every bit of her.

There were bigger things. Things like love and family. He had a moment where they’d fought. He wanted a watch. A watch that wouldn’t have been a big deal for him otherwise, but Dany had been pissed. “It’s a watch Jon, you have a good one. It belonged to my brother.”

He didn’t know that. He turned the watch over and saw the engraving. It was Rhaegar’s. It had meaning. She had gifted him for Christmas that year a new wedding band. From Tyrell’s. Robb’s new girlfriend was a Tyrell. She had engraved in it J + D= L + A. He thought it was funny. _“I’m a history teacher not Algebra.”_

“Yeah, well I couldn’t get us all to fit,” she laughed back. She shrugged, whispering hopefully. “And we can keep adding more. If that’s what happens.”

Their wedding anniversary at the Northern Lights. He wanted to take her back there. See if it was the same as it was when they first went. Silly undergraduates, fumbling through a crush, a friendship, and becoming something more. Something that defied time.

He threaded his fingers into hers now, brow furrowed. She removed her arm from around his shoulders, touching her fingertip to the crease between them. “What’s this about?”

“Just thinking,” he murmured. He forced a smile, unable to stop his worry and fear from seeping into his voice. “About before. How much things have changed. How different we are.”

She nodded, head dropping to his. “Me too.”

They were older, wiser...more cautious and careful. Their hearts had walls. They needed to let them down around each other again. They had time, he thought, smiling. _A thousand years._

The sun had faded from view, the night blanketing the city. He turned to face her, their mouths meeting in a soft, sweet kiss. He brushed a hand over her soft curls, whispering, “I’m so glad we found each other again.”

She nodded, mouth breaking from his long enough to whisper back. “Me too. I missed you. I had no idea how much I missed you.”

It had all gone so wrong. They were so young, so hopeful, and so…stupid. He suspected something might be off, when he said goodbye to her that lonely evening at the White Harbor International Airport. He closed his eyes, trying not to rehash everything, as he had done so many years after their breakup. He furrowed his brow again, mumbling. “How did we let each other go? Why couldn’t we just…push through?” If they had, if they’d…if they’d tried harder, been closer, maybe…maybe…

His thought never finished, for she shook her head, whispering. “We were young, we were…we were stupid and immature and did not realize. We had different focuses.”

Some things mattered far more than career, riches, and those silly dreams of youth. He nodded, understanding, because he hadn’t realized how much he’d hated his life, until he saw what could have been. He frowned again, deeper, murmuring. “What did your…angel, I suppose? What did she ask you?”

“Hmm….” She tapped her finger to his heart, chuckling. “She asked me if I had all I needed and…and I said I did, because I thought I did. I had what I needed. Money. Career. That’s all I thought about.” Her beautiful eyes met his, redirecting the question to him with a quirk of her eyebrow.

It was the same, he thought, sitting in the first-class seat of the jet to White Harbor. He had ordered his whiskey, been drinking it when the older man seated beside him, who hadn’t said so much as a few friendly words, asked if him what he was planning on doing in White Harbor. The standard _business or pleasure_ ask that he couldn’t stand, which was why he much preferred to travel private or on military jet.

_He smirked sideways, shrugging. “I suppose I am running away.”_

_“Running?” The man tsked, chuckling. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, his mustache twitching. “Running from what? A woman? Work?”_

_It was the two whiskies he’d had before the flight and now this one, loosening his lips, when he blurted out. “Running from everything.” He laughed. That stupid box, that phone call to Daenerys. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but Satin was probably right when he said he didn’t have to leave so soon, he could at least hand the box to her directly. “I called an ex-girlfriend. To pick up a box of stuff.”_

_“Ah, broken heart.”_

_“It was ten years ago. I married someone else and divorced her in the meantime. It doesn’t matter.”_

_The man offered his hand, smiling knowingly, his blue eyes like clear lakes, fixing straight on his. “I’m Davos.”_

_“Jon,” he mumbled, shaking his hand, wishing he hadn’t just closed his mouth. He was now going to be stuck talking to this man the entire time, when all he wanted was to pass out and wake up in White Harbor. There was a car waiting for him. He nodded to Ghost, who was sitting on the floor at his feet, curled up in a tight, white fluffy ball. “That’s Ghost.”_

_Ghost lifted his head, blinking red eyes up at the stranger—Davos—who simply offered his hand to the dog. “Davos, it is nice to meet you Mr. Ghost.” And the dog—who was too sweet for his own good sometimes—offered one of his massive paws for a shake. Jon rolled his eyes, as Davos laughed, shaking the animal’s hand._

_Davos leaned back in his seat, continuing to smile. “So it seems you have everything Mr. Snow, but answer me this….do you have what you need?”_

_Need was relative. You needed air, food, water, shelter to survive. He had all he needed. He had his job, his dog, and his fortunes. He’d made something of himself. He had a brief flash of violet eyes, silver hair, and a laughing smile, waving to him as she ran into the airport. The last happy image he had of Daenerys. He shrugged, the box sitting in the house he’d bought but hated, waiting to return to her if she wanted whatever was in it. He couldn’t even remember. He hadn’t opened it to see, just that if hse wanted it she could take it. Otherwise Satin could toss the thing._

_He gazed out the window, the clouds blowing by as the jet hurtled north. He tossed back his whiskey, studying the empty glass. “Of course. I have all I need.”_

And he closed his eyes, falling to sleep, and when he woke, he was in a different world, with a wife and two beautiful children, and he was a teacher and not a spy, and a father and husband and someone who was the same, but different. Because that Jon Snow did have everything he needed.

It was all so surreal. He shrugged. “I don’t understand any of this. How it happened...I’m just glad it did.”

She nibbled the tip of her tongue, shrugging. “And if it didn’t?”

They’d find each other. He had no doubt about that. He squeezed her tightly. “I think I would have found you. Or else be miserable my whole life.”

“We’ve been so close this whole time.”

“Steps away,” he agreed. It didn’t matter. Whatever happened, it happened, and they found each other. He chuckled to himself. “I would have found you...somewhere. You’d think me mad but...I think you would believe.”

“And you would have as well,” she laughed. She shrugged. “I had no plan beyond getting to Winterfell. Finding you. Showing you to snow globe and telling you everything. Even if you called the police on me. Then I saw how...sad you looked.”

“They all hate me,” he breathed. His men might begrudgingly respect him but they didn’t like him. No one did. They called him the White Wolf. The Bastard of Winterfell. The Night King. He knew all the names. Unfeeling and ruthless. He closed his eyes briefly. He had to fix that too. To change. They both did. They would. “What now?”

She kissed his temple. “We start this new year. We...we go North. I want to be with you Jon.” She laughed, tears trickling down her face. He brushed them away, kissing her softly. “I want you. I want what we could have had. As different as it might end up being, I want you.”

“For a thousand years,” he whispered.

She nodded frantically, as he lifted her from the couch and carried her back into her bedroom, mumbling. “For a thousand years.”

They lay in bed the rest of the evening, watching the fireworks. He studied their hands, threading together, and wondered just how soon he could get his mother’s ring from his vault, and on her finger.

And what he had done to deserve any of this. Whatever he’d done, that strange Davos thought he deserved it, and granted him that chance. A second chance. He wasn’t going to mess it up.

* * *

_One Year Later_

“Happy new year Lyanna, happy new year Lyanna,” Jon sang, bouncing his twelve-week-old daughter in the carrier strapped to his chest, his parka zipped up around her, even though he suspected she was plenty warm in her purple snowsuit, her tiny face barely visible through all the layers.

He was waiting in line at the hardware store, holding a couple boxes of sparklers for the New Year’s Eve festivities at the new house that evening. Their first New Year’s in their first home together. Their home, he sighed, still unable to imagine it sometimes. A beautiful old stone house with the slanted ceilings and gables they’d wanted, a big kitchen and picture windows and a beautiful little sunroom they would turn into a playroom.

The renovations were finally done, just intime to bring home Lyanna. He couldn’t believe it. Their beautiful baby girl, already in their lives, almost exactly forty weeks to the day Dany shouted his name on that crowded airport curbside and he’d raced out like a madman in search of her.

He smiled at Lyanna, her big violet eyes peering up. “I love you,” he whispered. He told her so all the time. He couldn’t stop. She was here. It was real. All that he’d seen, the life they might have had, it wasn’t the same. It was better. If possible. Different because they were different people.

But it was worth it. He had to learn to trust again. Dany had to learn to open up. He had been worried about marriage, his experience not an advertisement for the joys of it. Dany had been a divorce attorney, so she was wary herself. They worked hard at it. It made it better. Only five months in and they were doing well, he thought, wiggling his silver band on his left hand. He was still getting used to it. Marriage was inevitable even if they fretted over it.

As was Lyanna, as early as she had appeared for them. He stepped up to the register and paid for the sparklers. As he pocketed his wallet and took the bag, he heard a lilting accented voice call from beside him. “Going to celebrate the little lass’s first new year with some sparkles?”

The voice was familiar. Jon turned, eyes widening at the sight of the older man with small round glasses, a weathered lined face and quirking, knowing smile. His blue eyes sparkled, curious. He stepped to him, chuckling. Jon immediately wrapped his arms around his daughter, frantic. “No, no this is real you can’t take her from me again.”

Davos tapped his finger to the side of his nose, shaking his head and chuckling again. “Oh lad, I have no desire to do that. I could never if I wanted. This is the world in which you live. There is nothing to change.”

He maintained his grip around Lyanna. His eyes narrowed. “So why….why are you here?”

“I was nearby. I thought I would check on the progress. Ah, beautiful Lyanna.” He smiled again, leaning in to take a peek at the infant’s pudgy face. Unable to prevent himself, defying every instinct he had honed during his professional life to keep secrets, he pulled the parka aside and carefully pushed aside the various layers to reveal Lyanna, who cooed adoringly up at her admirers.

_Progress?_

Davos caught his curious frown and laughed heartily. “Ah, do not be worried. I wanted to see little Lyanna here. Remember what I told you, Jon.”

During the…dream. The other place. He’d met Davos once, at a park when he’d taken the kids to go sledding. Davos had come to tell him it was time to leave. That was the day when it was all going to be over. It was _a glimpse, nothing more or less_. He said _”They exist Jon, they’ve always existed, you just have to find them. Create them. It’s on you now, son._ ”

He glanced at Lyanna, her face just like the ones in the pictures scattered through the house. The house that didn’t exist. He scoured Winterfell searching for it. Dany laughed realizing it one day when they stood where they thought it might have been, in a clearing in the Wolfswood. “Don’t you see Jon? We have to make it.”

  
They did. They made their home. And their Lyanna. He smiled at Davos, nodding, understanding. “They always existed,” he murmured.

Davos nodded smartly. He tapped Lyanna’s nose, chuckling af her and rummaged a hand in his pocket. “Have something here for the lass…” He removed a tiny whittled wooden figure, a dragon and a wolf.

Jon thought he recognized it from somewhere. Sometimes Davos had been whittling on something when he saw him. In the other place. He took it carefully and smiled down at it, thumb brushing against the intricate faces. “Thank you Davos truly…”

Except when he lifted his head, Davos was gone. He looked around, turning a couple of times, but it was pointless. He glanced af Lyanna and showed her the figure. “You ready to go see Muna?”

Lyanna yawned and whined, stuffing her face into his chest, which Jon took as a yes.

Sparklers in hand he returned to the car and drove home, parking behind Dany’s new SUV. She still used Barristan as her Jack-of-all-Trades, but no longer needed a chauffeur. Her branching out of Targaryen & Tyrell, Esq. into adoptions, guardianship, and other pro bono law had been a great success.

As had the union of Stark and Tyrell, with Margaery trying to parlay her engagement to Robb into him joining their practice, but so far he was trying to keep things separate. Jon wished him luck. He knew he could lose anyone at any moment so he made sure to work on those relationships and friendships. Not let them slip away like before.

He brought in Lyanna, setting the sparklers on the kitchen island. “Dany?” he called softly. The Christmas decorations were still up, the tree blazing warmly in the great big window of their formal sitting room. He bypassed it for the comfortable den where they spent most of their time, their other tree bedecked in ornaments they’d found in antique stores, on the trip they took before they found out they were expecting, and a couple new ones at the top. “Our First Christmas” and “Baby’s First Christmas” hanging just under the star. He smiled at it and glanced to see Drogon trying to wrestle free a sparkling reindeer from a low branch.

“Hey,” he warned. Drogon glared at him and continued on. He spotted Ghost in front of the fireplace, sleeping perfectly like a Christmas card.

On the couch he spotted Dany, fast asleep in one of his shirts, thick socks mismatched and her sweats a pair of his too. He carried Lyanna over and sank next to her, tapping her shoulder lightly. “Wake up sleeping beauty,” he sang. “Someone wants to see you.”

Dany mumbled, blinking up, eyes lighting at Lyanna. “Hello my darling, did you have a good trip to the store?” She cradled her close, kissing her head, still in a cotton cap. “Muna missed you.”

“We missed Muna.”

“Did you get the sparklers?”

“I did but don’t quite know what we need with them when it’s just us.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve Jon! There has to be sparklers.” Dany carried Lyanna with her to the kitchen and pointed to the silly glasses and hats she also had bought. “It’s our first one. I want it special. Besides…” she trailed off and grinned. “It’s been a year. Quite a year.”

He went over to hug her, wrapping her up tight, whispering. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She kissed him quickly, smiling. “I’m going to feed the little miss here. You hungry?” Lyanna whined in response. She laughed. “Yeah, come on sweet girl, let’s go feed you while Daddy does the dishes.”

“Oh the dishes hug?”

She shrugged innocently. “They’re still there.”

Jon grinned. He did the dishes, filled the dishwasher and put the clean ones away. He went out and cleared a path in the snow for Ghost in the back and shoveled the walkway. He fixed the nightlight in Lyanna’s room, folded laundry, and took a shower.

When that was done, he checked his email, smiling at another demand by Stannis to come back to the Ministry. He shook his head and didn’t reply. He instead worked on his lesson plans for the upcoming quarter and by the time Ghost found him was pretty ahead of his to do list.

“Is it time?” he asked. Ghost yipped and turned around, trotting off. He chuckled, following him and put on a hat and glasses to bring in 2022. “Hey Dany!” He lit two sparklers and danced around with them, wondering where she’d gone. “Dany?”

After a couple minutes, he found her, asleep in their big bed, the curtains around their bedroom open to allow for the moonlight and starlight to stream in, snow falling lightly on the pines surrounding their home. He grinned at her, watching her sleep, her arms nestling Lyanna against her.

She had on a New Year’s Hat. “Happy New Year love,” he whispered. He put out the sparklers and took off his hat and glasses. As he crawled into bed, he realized he had something in his pocket. Taking it out he saw it was the figure from Davos. He set it carefully on the nightstand beside him and stared at it a moment.

_“Do you have what you need, Jon?”_

He turned out the lights, curled around his family, and kissed Dany’s head. He knew the answer she would say, if asked again. It was the same as his.

_Yes._


End file.
